Predator
by theatrekid02
Summary: *DARK FIC* Raped by her teacher, Rachel Berry struggles to cope with life afterwards and prepares to become a mother at sixteen. Angst and drama ensues. REVIEWS P/TY :)
1. Chapter 1

-/-

Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop it.

Wanna have some fun, Ra-

Stop.

Wanna have-

Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it.

Wanna-

"STOP!"

A frustrated cry ripples from my raw throat; it rings in my ears from the echo of the tile walls and I'm reminded of the last time I used that word today. This irritates me. But everything is irritating me right now. Like, god, when did my shower head ever get so loud? The hum is overwhelming and so loud it's almost as if it's screaming, screaming like me. Am I still screaming? Have I stopped screaming since I've gotten home? I can't tell. My mind is on other things.

I clench a pink loofah in my fist and scrub like mad. I scrub every inch of my used skin and it hurts like hell, but that doesn't stop me. I scrub until the bruises that litter my body threaten to burst and everything that wasn't already sore now is and my knuckles are white from a loss of circulation. And then I scrub some more. Because no matter how much I try to scrub away his hot breath on my neck, the places his fingers have been, the overall feeling of his filth-

It remains.

I'm so, _so_ afraid that it always will.

Before I know it, a wave of pure sorrow is smothering me and I can't do anything but collapse to the ground in defeat and exhaustion. There isn't an area of my body that doesn't hurt, but none else compares to the throbbing, stinging, shredded mess that was once my lower region. Upon contact with the tile floor, I see blinding white flashes and howl in pain.

I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my head against them. I'm crying again- god, I sound hideous when I cry. When I'm acting, of course I have my delicate, theatrical weep, but right now I sound more like a hiccuping goat. Through my legs I watch a crimson stream of blood- my blood, trail its way to the drain, staining the floor. Does everything I touch become filthy now? Frothy red bubbles foam against the stainless steel when the hot water hits it. I have never felt more like a used and discarded tissue in my entire life.

I am such an idiot!

How could I let that happen to me? I should've ran when I had the bad feeling, god, how could I let that happen? No wonder he did that to me, I'm so stupid! This is my fault, I'm no better than a hooker!

My teeth dig into one of my bruised knees as I choke on my sobs. I just wanted him to love me, I just wanted to be loved!

This fleeting thought is immediately dismissed and I chuckle ruefully. It sounds like something a younger Rachel Berry would've said last week, yesterday, hell, probably even a couple hours ago. A naive little girl who was so uneducated, so clueless when it came to men and love.

"That was not love, Rachel," I whisper.

-/-

-EARLIER THAT DAY-

It's no secret that Mr. Schuester doesn't return my feelings.

I know this now. And to think I've been spending this entire week making a complete fool of myself, mooning over him like a desperate whore. After realizing my love for him during our riveting duet, I had figured that if I... _presented_ myself like how I've been doing, then he would come to realize his own. After that? I never thought about it. Now I know that a relationship between us would be extremely difficult, if not illegal. And even if it wasn't, he's married with a baby on the way. Once I become a star, I do not intend on people labeling me as a home-wrecker.

Now I just have to figure out how to get rid of these useless feelings. How stupid I was to think he would ever possibly want me in the first place.

I sit up straightly in a choir room chair, flowers in my lap and the song 'Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word' running through my mind, ready to be sung. Is my apology a bit over the top? Probably. But an apology from Rachel Berry is a rare occasion. And I know how much he loves Elton John.

I've been sitting here in the choir room for awhile now. I know he always comes back here after school because he keeps his things in his office, but I'm starting to feel a bit unsure of myself. The clock on the wall reads 3:42, maybe he isn't. I think I'll just stick it out until f-

The door clicks open.

Finally! I wonder what took him so long? He shuts the door behind him slowly; why do I sense something off? And he doesn't seem to notice me here either.

"Mr. Schue?" I call, getting his attention. He turns around at the sound of my voice and looks at me vacantly. I hear myself gasp. His eyes are bloodshot and he holds what looks like a metal flask. Oh god! Mr. Schuester is drunk!

"Mr. Schue, have you been...drinking?" I ask bewilderedly. He stares at me, expressionless for a moment, and then suddenly bursts into a raspy laugh, startling me.

"I'm thirty-four, I can drink if I want to, dumb girl," he slurs, stepping closer to me. Before I can say anything, his gaze falls onto the flowers and he grins slyly. This throws me off a bit; I've never seen him grin like that and for some reason it scares me.

"So you still like me, huh?"

My eyes widen. Mr. Schuester is standing so close to me that I can smell the whiskey on his breath. I feel my heart beat a million times a minute. "C'mere," he whispers, touching my cheek.

My intuition is kicking in and I know what he's about to do. My head feels light and my legs are trembling as they rise, and the next thing I know his lips are pressing against mine and _oh my god he's kissing me he's actually kissing me!_ I'm breathless and my knees feel weak so I grab his collar before I can collapse, oh my god he's kissing me!

My eyes open as I recover from the initial shock. Wait a minute. This doesn't feel right, he's kissing me roughly, not tenderly, and there's no passion, it's all numb. His lips taste like sour alcohol. Now I know how it feels to kiss a drunk person, this isn't right!

He breaks away for a moment, our faces still touching, and his dark eyes bore into mine. I hear my shaky breath against his mouth as I look at them. These eyes scare me, bad. I can't help but think of a predator watching, waiting to attack its prey. I have a bad, bad feeling about this.

 _"Wanna have some fun, Rach?"_

My heart drops into my stomach. I have to get out of here! My legs lunge forward, but he catches me by my middle and yanks me back. This is really bad!

"Help!" I scream, squirming in his arms. Is there anyone left here to hear me? Well it doesn't matter now, his sweaty hand is clamped over my mouth, and I can hardly breathe! Oh my god, what do I do?!

Mr. Schuester has one arm pinned around both of mine, and the other is digging into my shoulder where he has my mouth shut. He holds me against his body and _damnit, why am I so short?_ because my legs kick and wriggle helplessly in the air. "Let go of me!" I try to shout against his hand, my lips smushed against my teeth.

I hear him shush me and mumble some incoherent words before he starts rocking me against his chest. Does he really think that's going to calm me down?! I try bucking against him, but I'm still stuck and now he's grazing at my neck.

"C'mon Rach, I thought you love me," he whispers, his hot breath tingly under my ear.

I can't see anymore because tears make everything look blurry. Somebody please help me! God please save me! Somebody help! Somebody help!

Suddenly I'm on the ground with a dull thud and he clumsily situates himself over me, one hand still on my mouth as the other wanders under my dress and gropes my breasts. With both of my arms pinned beneath his knees, I try to bring up my legs and kick him, but he uses the opportunity to pin those as well. He's stopped feeling me up; please God, please let him be done with me!

I hear the zipper on his pants and his intentions finally sink in.

"No! Stop!" I scream desperately beneath his hand. I feel like my eyes are going to explode, they're so wide! He pushes my dress up around my neck so that my whole body is exposed to him. "This is what you wanted," he slurs.

I try to protest this, but it's exhausting trying to talk against his hand. He leans down with a smirk. "You love me," he says. "Now prove it."

When he rips away my cotton panties, a burst of adrenaline goes off deep within my chest, and I snap my head away from his death grip with a scream that will surely ruin my vocal chords, "STOP!" It echoes loudly in the empty choir room, much to my satisfaction.

I see his eyes turn round. "Shit!" he exclaims. "Shut up!"

With one quick motion, he raises his hand and before I know what's coming, he strikes a deafening blow to the side of my head and everything's gone.

My vision dances before my eyes and I feel incredibly dizzy. How long have I been laying here? I try to prop myself up on one elbow, but the instant ripple of pain almost makes me pass out again. God, I had no idea that my body can hurt this much! It's dark in here and as my vision adjusts, I take the time to take in my surroundings, terror running through my veins.

I'm naked and cold on the choir room floor.

Mr. Schuester is nowhere to be seen.

Tears come to my eyes again. How could this happen to me?! Why was it him? Where is he? Why did he do that to me? What am I supposed to do now?

All I can think of to do is to redress my broken body and somehow find my way home. I can't stay in this room a second longer.

-/-


	2. Chapter 2

-/-

My hands are balled up into fists, hovering in front of my body as I step out of the bathroom. I feel myself trembling with paranoia, afraid of who might be there if I turn around. I can't help it, what he followed me home? What if he's hiding in the shadows, waiting to finish me off? I'm in this house all alone, as my dads are out of town until tomorrow, and I would be completely defenseless if he attacked me again! The damp towel wrapped around me does nothing to make me feel less naked, less vulnerable. As I open my dresser to get underwear and pajamas, I face the room dead-on so nothing can sneak up on me. I will _not_ take any chances.

I grit my teeth as I pull a clean pair of panties over my sensitive thighs and against my crotch, which stings horribly with even the faintest brush. I slip an airy nightgown over my head to eliminate any unnecessary pressure against my skin. It seems like no matter where I touch, it hurts.

When I got home, the first thing I did was strip naked, right in my backyard for the whole honest world to see. I didn't care at that point, and I don't think anyone saw me anyway. Then I threw every single article of clothing, even my socks, into the fire pit and burned them. My beloved purple pullover dress with the flowered print- oh, how I hated to burn that. But I know that I wouldn't ever wear any of those things ever again. I had to burn them, I had to get rid of them like they'd never even existed.

The clock on my bedside table reads 5:15. That means if I passed out at around 3:45 and I got home about an hour ago, I was out cold for like fifteen minutes. The thought of my naked body lying unconscious in an empty building for that long makes me shiver. Like how I shivered when he-

No, my head shakes vigorously. I'm not going to think about it.

I feel so small, curled up on this bed like a little child. Something drips on the pillow below me and oh, I didn't realize that I'm still crying. Am I always going to be like this? So distracted by what happened that I'll never be able to tell how long I've been screaming or crying, or even whether I am?

God, why did this happen to me? I know that I'm selfish and conceited but I don't deserve this! Nobody does! I never knew how I was supposed to cope with his unrequited love in the first place, but now he's... _taken advantage_ of me, and how am I supposed to live with myself? How am I supposed to continue on like nothing happened? How am I supposed to face him again?

And to think, I have to go back to that horrible room and dance around the very spot where I lost my virginity! I have to be around the very criminal who-

...wait a minute. It hadn't even crossed my mind to call the police! Isn't that what girls do when they get... _raped_? Raped. I was raped. Earlier, I had refused to acknowledge that word. Now it's starting to sink in. I am a victim of rape. He _raped_ me. I was raped. But is it rape if he didn't mean to do it? Did he mean to do it? Did I put him under the impression that I wanted that? Ugh, this is so confusing.

What would happen if he got arrested? Would I even want to turn him in, given my feelings for him? Well, if I still have those feelings. At the moment, everything associated with him is terrifying. And I can't even remember what he looked like before tonight, what with those bloodshot eyes and that vacant expression and those...rough hands.

Oh, how I hate those hands.

But even after this cloud lifts, even despite whatever my feelings turn out to be for him, what would happen if he went to jail? What good would it do, besides keeping him from doing it again? I know he wouldn't. And it wouldn't do any justice to me, people would look at me and know I was the girl who got raped by her teacher! I already know the awful things they would call me! And, aside from my own self, a child would be without a father, a wife without her husband, and Glee Club without their director. Glee Club would be doomed!

And I know I can't turn him in.

I couldn't bear to cause that much hurt.

Aimlessly, I swipe a hand over my sticky eyes and roll over uncomfortably. I glance at my clock again and oh my god, it's already 9:24! Have I really been laying here for four hours?! What the hell is happening to me?!

I catch a glimpse of my ragged appearance in the vanity in front of my bed. I look like the grudge, or something along those lines, with my ratty unbrushed hair covering my face and my small battered body curled up in a strange position. Through my hair, I can still see one of my swollen eyes -the one that was struck- and it will undoubtedly be black in the morning. Morning! Ugh, I have to fall asleep sooner or later. Or not.

There is no way in hell I'm going to sleep tonight. I've read the articles about girls like me. They hate sleeping because their attacker haunts their dreams like a ghost and terrorizes them even in subconsciousness. And I have no desire to find out how my brain will twist the already-nightmarish event into something even more horrific.

So I'm leaving all the lights on.

And I'm not closing my eyes for a single second.

-/-

I wake up in a cold sweat; my pulse racing, my head pounding. Something in the back of my head is telling me that I'm screaming but I can't hear it, not over the echo of his voice still lingering in my ears. Damnit, I was supposed to stay awake! After all I've been through, is that so much to ask?

I feel myself still shaking but I ignore it and roll out of bed. The sun is coming up outside my window. On a usual day, I would head downstairs and enjoy the sunrise with a warm mug of tea. This is not a usual day. I don't think I'll ever have a usual day ever again.

I'm startled when I look in the mirror. I had forgotten about how I look, and the very sight of me brings tears to my eyes. Then it occurs to me that I'm actually supposed to get ready for school.

Screw that! How am I supposed to just pick up the pieces and carry on like nothing happened?! How am I supposed to act like I'm not a completely different person?!

A harder voice surfaces in my head. You have never been cliché a day in your life, Rachel Berry, and you are not starting now.

I remember last year, a junior named Jessica had evidently lost her virginity the weekend prior, and she showed up to school wearing sweats and a messy bun. Now Jessica was a preppy girl who always opted to wear sundresses with jean jackets, so a good part of her grade caught on and would pass her in the halls shouting, "Somebody lost their V-Card!"

And as much as I crave a loose pair of sweatpants against my sore legs, I know that I have to pay the price of secrecy.

I open my closet and pull out a turtleneck sweater, which should help to cover up the hickeys on my neck and my bruised arms. It's a good thing I own a lot of turtlenecks and scarves, because I'm guessing these aren't going away any time soon. Rarely I wear jeans, but these will have to do.

The sweater goes on pretty painlessly, but the second I start sliding the jeans around my legs and scraped knees, I know that it's going to hurt. I gasp when the tight fabric settles against my inner thighs and crotch. It's going to be an effort to walk, I'm sure.

I take a few stinging strides until I'm somewhat used to it, and then I head back into my bathroom. I leave my hair down to help curtain my pathetic-looking face. Not only was I right about the black eye, but I also have a fat lip, and my nose and cheeks are bruised from his hand holding my mouth shut. And foundation can only go so far.

After I heavily apply makeup, I look a little better and my mouth isn't as noticeable, but there's nothing I can do about the black eye. I'll make up an excuse for that later. I wince grabbing my backpack from the ground, and as I waddle down the stairs to the front door, I feel a twinge of fear. I stop. Going back there is easier said than done.

I shake away my nerves like I do when performing. And although I force myself to get in the car and drive, I still wonder how in the world I'm going to survive after today.

-/-


	3. Chapter 3

-/-

I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach when I find myself in front of the choir room door.

I remember the last time I've stood in front of this door and without warning, harsh, red images flash before my eyes. The metal flask clanking on the floor, his dark, empty eyes, his hands trailing all over me, the sound of his heavy breath, my underwear being ripped away-

Stop it, Rachel!

I feel hot tears rising and it takes a lot of effort to force them back down. Okay Rachel, now open the door.

But I find that I can't bring myself to do it. Not even to touch it. I can't help but think it'd be like opening a gateway into my own personal hell; unleashing the confined evils into the rest of the world. Once I open the door, who knows what Mr. Schuester will do to me? I didn't have Spanish today so I haven't seen him yet. How am I supposed to face him again?

My train of thought is cut off as Mercedes shuffles past me and now it's done, the door is open. I sigh and force my unwilling feet across the threshold, not torturing myself by looking around. I just head straight to the back of the room and pray that so help me, he be sick or absent or anything stopping him from being here today.

I allow my eyes to dart up for a second and damnit, there he is at his usual spot by the whiteboard. I can feel his stare burning into my forehead. I know he wants me to meet his gaze. Stop looking at me! I want to yell at him. Haven't you done enough?

"Woah Berry, did someone finally beat you up?"

I feel myself wince at that comment. Santana.

"I ran into a door," I mutter, not giving Mr. Schuester the satisfaction of my eye contact. Although out of the corner of my vision, I see him cross his arms and stare at the ground. Good. I hope he feels guilty.

I don't pay attention for the entire class, which I've never done in any class before. Today in my other classes I tried to focus to keep my mind off things, but here I'm not even going to bother. It goes by painstakingly slow. I do force myself to sing some, but minimally at best because if I didn't, it would be a dead-giveaway that something's wrong. But this aspect scares me, even more than facing Mr. Schuester again. For the first time in my life, I have no desire to sing.

After what seems like hours, the dull-toned bell finally drones through the building. I try to collect my things quickly so that I'm not the last one in the room with him, but every part of me seems to move so slowly now, and everyone is faster than me. I hurry down the risers and I'm almost out the door and _please God, please let me make it out_ , and then I feel his hand on my shoulder. Damnit!

I see red again; that same hand touching me in forbidden places, holding my mouth shut, coming down on my head-

Something similar to a squeak escapes my throat and I shudder away violently.

"We need to talk," he says.

Facing away from him, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will away all of the memories that I keep seeing oh-so clearly at the sound of his voice. I grip my sides tightly, as if I'll crumble to the ground if I don't. "There's nothing to talk about."

There's a prolonged silence so I start for the door again. I hear him sigh loudly. "Rachel," he warns, "come back here. Remember, I'm your superior, so you have to listen to me."

This statement immediately fires up every angry nerve in my body. I spin around on my heel and sneer at him with the upmost disgust.

"What are you gonna do, _rape_ me?" I hiss. He sighs again and rubs his face. As if he's the one that deserves to be agitated.

"Did you tell anybody?" he asks me quietly. I want to laugh. I genuinely want to laugh.

"You break my body and leave me for dead, naked and unconscious," I retort, "and all you're worried about is whether or not I turned you in? You are a sick, _sick_ man, Will Schuester!"

"I'm really sorry, Rachel!" he protests. "I was...I was in a bad place and-"

"You were _wasted_ because you chose to get wasted, at school!" I interrupt.

Mr. Schuester covers his face impatiently. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I didn't know what I was doing! I barely even remember what happened! I…I just need to know if you told anybody," he finishes.

It's so hard to look straight into his face without falling apart. Oh, how I want to keep screaming and ranting and belittling him, but pure sadness is threatening to overpower my anger and I find myself standing here, lips quivering, as I desperately try to use my voice.

"I...no, I didn't, okay?" I finally spit out, tossing my hands up with frustration. "And...and don't you dare think for a second that it's not a big deal to me, because it is! While you were too drunk to even remember, I will always remember every...every _excruciating_ little detail for the rest of my life, and as much as I'd like to forget, I...I won't! Not ever!"

Damn my stuttering. Boiling tears threaten to spill over my eyes and my throat is becoming unbearably swollen. No, I can't cry in front of him! Calm down, Rachel, I command myself. I take a slow, raspy breath and look back up into those green eyes that I once (still?) adored.

"I'm not telling on you because I don't want to be known as the girl who was raped by her teacher!" I barely manage. "I don't want people to look at me and know I wear the clothes that I wear to hide the body that you ruined! You _ruined_ me!"

The last part seems to put a waver into his expression, to my satisfaction.

"I really am sorry," he tries again, somber. "I'm so, so sorry, Rach."

As I try to study his face, oh how I want to believe him. How I wish that I could still hang onto every word he speaks, and truly know that every word coming out of his mouth is genuine.

But I just… _can't_.

I sniffle back my tears pitifully and turn to reach for the door handle, shaking my head.

"No you're not."

-/-

The instant my car door slams shut, I fall apart.

There's nothing I can do to stop the crying. I sit here, weeping and howling and pounding my fists against the steering wheel. The only thing I can manage to think straight is that I can't believe that I know I'm screaming for once.

WHY WAS IT HIM

WHY

WHY

WHY

Why couldn't it be anybody else?! I never would've guessed in my entire life that I'd actually prefer to be raped in the first place! Yet now, as I sit here on the verge of ripping my hair out, there's nothing else I wish for so desperately!

WHY HIM

WHY HIM

WHY HIM

I know that if anyone else did that to me, he'd be comforting and kind and I know how he is, I know it would just kill him inside! What happened to that Will Schuester?! The one that did anything for his students, that made sure we were all okay? I am definitely not okay, and on top of that, it's his fault! Where is the Will Schuester I know?

Where is the one I fell in love with?

WHY DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

WHY DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

WHY THE HELL DOESN'T HE CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE

"He doesn't care about me!" I scream out loud, my voice cracking horribly. Saliva drips from my mouth and mascara clumps are coming off on my fingertips and _god I must look like a mess_. I don't even care what I look like right now. Those words keep playing over and over in my head like a broken record. It's strange. So many things have happened today that make me feel like absolute shit.

Yet the worst feeling I've had is realizing that he doesn't care about me.

-/-


	4. Chapter 4

-/-

 _I'm running down the main hallway at McKinley; only now it's seemingly-endless, and I desperately search for a door, a window, any kind of way out. He's chasing me, though I can't see him and I can't remember anything before now, I know he's chasing me. I can hear his heavy footsteps echoing around the corner. Suddenly to my left, there it is, the choir room door! I practically throw myself at it and I yank on the knob. Argh! It's not budging! Frustrated tears boil in my eyes, I hear myself screaming in fright as the footsteps become louder._

 _I give it another good, hard pull, and the door swings open. The force of it makes me fall and land hard on my butt. I start to get back up, but I stop when I look into the room before me. Everything's pitch black, except for the glowing green eyes peering at me from above._

 _His green eyes._

 _I try to scream but nothing comes out. I try to move my legs but it's like they're stuck in quicksand. I can only look back up at him as he steps out of the shadows and -what?! I'm naked! This doesn't make any sense, I was just wearing my favorite purple dress, the one that I- burned? But I don't have time to think about this, he's on me! Screams of agony resonate in my ears, because they're my screams I realize, because he's tearing away my skin with his teeth! He raises his long, ragged claws and looks into my eyes with his demonic ones and-_

I'm staring into my daddy's face. Screaming, I flail around pathetically and beat my arms against his chest in response. Him and dad are laughing now but I fail to see anything humorous about this, I'm still shaking from whatever just happened to me! Oh wait a minute, I realize, looking around at my bedroom briefly. It was another dream.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine!" Daddy chuckles. I groan and shove my head back under the covers.

"It's Saturday," I mutter. "You don't have to wake me up so early."

"Why Rachie, it's almost eleven in the morning!" I hear Dad say. Really? Damn, what's happening to me?

"We figured you've gotten enough rest, don't you want to hear about our trip to Chicago?" he asks.

"You mean like all your other stupid trips to Chicago?"

I hear a pause. "Rachel, is there something wrong?"

"No."

The blanket is peeled away from my head, but most of my face is still pressed against the pillow. Daddy looks at me with a sympathetic frown. "Did something happen while we were away? Are you having boy troubles?...That Finn Hudson boy?"

"No!" I protest, maybe a little too quickly. I toss my head uncomfortably. At least I'm not lying about Finn.

"I'm just...tired."

He sighs. "I know you better than-" suddenly he gasps, and Dad does too. What?

"Rachel, your eye!" exclaims Dad. "Something did happen, you little actress!"

Damn it! I forgot about my eye!

"I just ran into a door," rolls off my tongue. "I...I wasn't looking where I was going and I turned my head and smacked it into an open door, right in front of everybody in the hallway. Everyone made fun of me and my eye still hurts, and that's why I'm in a bad mood."

Thank God for my talents in impromptu story-telling.

My dads share a knowing glance and then Daddy frowns at me again. "Rachel if some-"

Then he stops, shaking his head slightly as if dismissing the thought. "Oh, never mind," he says good-naturedly. "I was just worried you got into a fight or something, but I know that's simply preposterous!"

Dad laughs. "I can just imagine it! Our Rachel getting into a fist-fight with someone trying to steal a solo!"

They laugh again and I smack him playfully on the shoulder, relief settling in my chest. "Meanie."

"Well," Daddy says, clasping his hands together as he stands, "why don't we have ourselves a little homecoming celebration with my famous soy milk pancakes!"

I nod with a smile, and they get off my bed and leave. While I should be relieved that I managed to keep this from my dads, I can't help but wonder why I feel guilty about something that wasn't even my fault.

-/-

I wear a sweater and a scarf, although it's still a little hot out. Doesn't matter. They cover up the bruises.

When I sit in the grass, it still hurts down there. I know it's only been two days, but I can't help but wonder if it always will, because right now it seems like nothing is ever going to go away. I'm always going to have this stupid black eye people keep staring at. I'm always going to have to make an effort to pee, because it hurts so bad. I'm always going to jump at sudden loud sounds, or any sound at all.

But I'm never going to have my virginity back. I'm never going to have my innocence, or pride. I'm never going to be normal. Not after this.

Damn him!

Damn him for making me feel so humiliated for something that _he_ did! I can't be out here in public without feeling everybody looking at me, judging me. I feel so ashamed! I shouldn't be, but I am! I feel so...unworthy, to be this pretending part of society. People walk past me, doing what they're supposed to, playing the part they were assigned. Here I am, a fifteen year-old girl they assume is like all the others. They don't know about what I've done!

And damn him to hell that I have to sit here, pretending! Because of him I'm a disgrace, I'm trash! I can't be fifteen anymore!

Down the hill there's a young couple with a little boy on the sidewalk. Those people have had sex. The old woman on a bench with her dog, she's had sex. The group of adults playing frisbee golf, they've all had sex. I'm one of them now, I'm all grown up because of him.

I wonder what he's doing right now.

Has he been thinking about me, does he feel guilty? Probably not. Nothing has changed for him, he still has a pregnant wife, still flirts with the school counselor, still goes back to that room feeling everything but sorry. He still has purpose, motivation. It doesn't take a long time to convince himself to go to bed, or to get out of it.

I wonder how he kisses his wife without the whole awful truth spilling out and him begging for her forgiveness. Or maybe they're in the middle of a fight. Maybe she's the reason why he got drunk in the first place and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That would make sense, actually. It would be self righteous to think he was actually attracted to me.

But this realization makes me feel even worse. It's awful to be raped by someone who thinks you're hot, but it's even more demeaning to know that your rapist just did it because you were the only one there.

And on top of that, I'm too much of a coward to turn the sick bastard in.

-/-


	5. Chapter 5

-/-

It's been exactly one week since the incident.

Well, six days, twenty hours, and four minutes to be precise. Nothing's changed, really. My black eye has faded into a sickly yellow and I don't bleed down there anymore. But it still hurts to sit. And walk. And pee. And anything that requires my legs to move.

I still hear his voice and shiver.

His Spanish class is across the hall from my fourth period Biology and my desk is right beside the door. This is the only time of the day that I can watch him, because any other time he can see me. I can't let him know how he gets to me. So I sit at my desk, like I do now, and watch him stand beside his door as students trickle in. It amazes me how he can just... _go on_. Act as if everything is right with the world. Then again, I suppose everything _is_ right with his world. No guilt, no consequences. Asshole.

I wonder what he thinks when- _damn!_ I was looking at him too long, he saw me. I can feel the color on my face as I pretend to be engrossed in a textbook. Well, there goes my spying time. Is he still looking at me? Slowly, I glance up again.

He is. The bell has rung already, but he's still lingering by the door because he knows I have his attention, the bastard. This is the first time we've made eye contact all week. I don't like it. I shoot him the coldest look I can muster and in return, his lips press into a thin line. He closes his eyes in defeat and turns back into his classroom.

Good.

I hope I'm making him feel guilty.

Class begins and I find myself having a hard time concentrating. But that's nothing new. For some reason, no matter what I'm supposed to be learning, my mind always finds a way to travel back to him. I bet Mr. Schuester never had to learn this when he was my age, I wonder if Mr. Schuester was good at Algebra 2, Mr. Schuester said something about that once, Mr. Schuester _this_! Mr. Schuester _that_!

How dare he do this to me! How can he just keep continuously ruining my life without suffering at all?! Well, he would if I could just turn him in! But I know doing that would only make things worse for me. How dare he put me in this situation, too! How despicable! How heartless! How-

My train of thought is interrupted by the bell. I sigh, watching everyone else hand in the test I didn't do. My days just keep getting shorter and shorter now, drawn together like one big, never-ending nightmare. My science teacher looks at me questionably and I ignore her. Who cares if I flunk everything? It doesn't matter what happens to me now anyway.

I hoist my backpack over my shoulder. He's standing next to his door again, looking at me. I have a bad feeling he's going to try to talk to me so I completely avoid him, heading in the opposite direction. It doesn't work.

Sure enough, I hear my name come out of his mouth, behind me. I keep walking.

"Rachel!"

He walks faster than I do and he steps in front of me. "Leave me alone," I grumble, trying to move away.

"Stop," he tells me. "Rachel, can you please just listen to me for a moment?"

"You didn't listen to me when _I_ said 'stop'," I retort. He exhales slowly.

"I...I know. Rachel, you have every right to hate me, but please just hear me out. I'm-"

"Sorry," I interrupt harshly. "You're _so_ sorry about what you did, and you feel _so_ bad seeing me flunk all my classes, and I just _have_ to pull it together, glee club _needs_ me! Well guess what? There's nothing left for me to pull together, and I know you have about as much guilt as a two year-old!"

He tries to protest but I don't let him. "And now that we're on the same page here, I suggest you stop pissing me off because all it takes is one phone call and everything you have is gone," I grit between my teeth. "Your family, your house, career...everything!"

I'm startled when I look back up into his face. He's angry now, and it scares me a little. His fists are clenched at his sides and he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't. After a moment, he turns away from me and stalks back into his classroom. I feel myself shaking. I can't believe I just stood up to him like that.

-/-

The last girl from Jane Addams Academy shuts the door of the exit, making a hollow echo in the auditorium. Everyone sits in silence. Usually they would worry me and I'd immediately start planning our set list of the century. It makes me sad to think that I don't even care.

"Mr. Schue, they're better than us," says Brittany.

"No, they're not," he snaps. "We're just as good as they are. It's just..."

"Hairography."

Every single person turns their head and stares at me. I guess it's been awhile since I've spoken up. And I don't even know why I bothered to.

"What?" asks Mr. Schuester. I fight the urge to narrow my eyes at him in front of my peers.

"Hairography. All the whizzing around of their hair to distract from the fact that they really aren't good dancers, and their vocals are just so-so. It's all smoke and mirrors, you guys don't have to worry."

His eyes drift to the ground and I know he's just realizing that I said 'you guys' and not 'we'. I think everyone else is too, because I get a questionable look from Finn. "Rachel, what's been up with you lately?" he asks. "I think that's the first thing that's come out of your mouth all week. And you hardly even participate anymore."

Mr. Schuester and I share another painful glance as he finishes speaking.

"I...uh," I rake my mind for a legible excuse. "I haven't been feeling well. I have to rest my vocal chords."

"Well that explains a lot," mutters Mercedes. But some others don't look too convinced.

"You don't sound sick," argues Santana. She always argues. "What, did someone finally tell you that you can't sing worth a damn? Is that where you really got that black eye, from-"

"That is enough, Santana!" Mr. Schuester bellows. My eyebrows raise in surprise. Why the hell is he defending me?

"No, it's not!" she fires back. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Rachel's the one who's supposed to be carrying our weight to Sectionals! And when she quits doing her little Broadway-theatricality thing, that's when we lose the one ounce of professionalism we have! If she doesn't get her head back in the game it'll cost us the competition!"

Oh, she makes me so mad! "For your information-"

"Can it, Manhands," she cuts me off. "You need to get off your little high-horse because you're not making a statement! Nobody feels sorry for you! Everybody just wants to win Sectionals and we can't do that with you having a pity party everyday! You are absolutely the most-"

I don't hear the rest of what she says. I slam the auditorium door as loud as I possibly can, knowing I'm about to cry, which I can't do in front of them.

I know she's right.

That's the worst part.

I sink to the floor and make myself as small as possible, because maybe then nobody can see me. Maybe the world can just forget about me.

-/-


	6. Chapter 6

-/-

My palms are digging into my eyes so hard that I see white. Every sound is amplified, from the dripping faucet to my thin, shaky breaths. I've lost track of time. How long have I been waiting, hours? I know that it hasn't been more than three minutes but it feels just the same.

This is bad. This is really, _really_ bad.

Ohhh, I hate him! I hate him with every part of me! I've never hated him as much as I do in this moment, god, I hate him! He did this to me, he's made an entire month of my life a living hell and probably the rest of my life! I want him to die! I want him to suffer! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!

Suddenly the timer goes off and I nearly scream. It rings too loudly, it's irritating me more than it should. But to turn it off I'd have to take away my hands from my eyes and I really don't want to. Ugh...okay. Open your eyes, Rachel.

They don't open. This is like standing outside of the choir room door again, my body will just not move.

Open. Your. Eyes, Rachel.

Stop being such a coward! How are you supposed to perform before sold-out crowds on Broadway if you can't even do this?

Rachel, open your eyes right-

They finally flash open. And I don't even blink before I feel my legs give out beneath me.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! I'm collapsed here on the cold tile floor and all of the air in my lungs has evaporated, I can't breathe! I'm gasping for air through the uncontrollable sobs that I can't slow, like a dying fish.

"No! No! Oh no! No!" I hear myself wail, muffled because my face is pressed against my knees. I can't even focus on anything that I'm thinking because a million things are rushing through my mind, I think I might pass out! No! This can't be happening to me!

I can't have a baby!

I can't have _his_ baby!

I feel weak from the head rush I'm getting. It's been a long, awful month. Yes, my body has healed and all the physical evidence of that night is gone, but I still walk around just as paranoid as I was the first day after. I think I might have some sort of PTSD or something. I know I can't let it get to me. I've been getting my grades back up and I try so, so hard to make an effort in glee club, but the song in my heart, it's just not there anymore. My daily MySpace videos have been on hiatus since that night, but it's not like anyone's missing them. I just...don't want to sing.

I think I hate him for that the most.

We might lose Sectionals because of my mediocre performing. No matter how hard I try, I can't find that connection I once had. I know everyone's noticed. I especially hope that he's noticed so he knows that it's all his fault! Well, I guess it's my fault too for acting like a whore during Ballad week.

But no matter where the blame falls, I'm having his baby and that is non-negotiable.

"What am I gonna do?" I wail, feeling incredibly dizzy as I lie here on the floor. I'm having the baby of the man who raped me! Forget that even, I'm having a baby! I'm only fifteen! How am I supposed to be a mother?!

All the effort I put into trying to forget what happened is ruined, now I have a constant, permanent reminder! I'm going to have a reminder for the rest of my life! God, what will my family say? What will my peers say? What will _he_ say?

Oh, I can't tell him! He'd make me get an abortion, or worse, he'd attack me again and make me miscarry! And even if he doesn't, he would never take responsibility for it. He has a wife and _their_ child on the way already! Mr. Schuester would never look at my illegitimate one as his own!

I couldn't possibly get an abortion. That is definite. But do I keep it, do I give it up? I'm not even sure I could do that, I know painfully well how it feels to not know your mother. Whatever I decide, that still means I have to be pregnant and give birth when I'm only sixteen! This is horrifying! What about New York, Broadway? I'll be stuck in Lima forever!

Millions of thoughts and questions still race through my head, and I can't do anything but lie here on the rug and cry until there's no tears left.

-/-

Today I've found myself staring at two people in particular.

Firstly, Quinn Fabray, who is also pregnant yet manages to maintain her popularity. I think very contemptibly of her. Yes, she gets her share of dirty looks and gossip, but she isn't treated nearly as bad as I surely will be in the near future. She gets all kinds of sympathy for her utter stupidity, while I know I'll be tormented consistently for the same thing that's not even my fault.

And secondly, him.

I keep thinking _I am having that man's baby_ , over and over until the words don't make sense and I've been looking at him so long that he notices, and I have to look away quickly. He dances around in the choir room, the very place where he raped a teenager, completely guiltlessly. Don't you know that you ruined a person? I want to yell at him.

Why am I the one suffering when he should be?

Right now he's with a small group demonstrating pivots and footwork. Quinn Fabray is included. You know, you'd think that getting knocked up would humble her a little, but her situation has hardly interfered with her queen bee status. I remember how bitchy she was to me when I had that crush on Finn. Now I don't even like him anymore and she still goes out of her way to be rude.

I feel a wave of nausea come over me, or I guess I now know it's morning sickness. Ugh. Vomiting is one of the most unpleasant things I've ever done, and lately I've been doing it too often for my liking. That was one of the things that had tipped me off, other than the skipped period that I previously thought was due to stress.

I've been like this for the past week and a half, or so. I think that deep down I knew what was happening but I kept denying it, until I could work up the courage to sneak a home pregnancy test from Teen Health. As I made sure nobody was watching me, I realized in that exact moment that I was at my lowest point.

Because of that stupid bastard.

This evidently is not a false alarm, I feel bile rising fast. I get up from my chair, hurry down the risers, and shove into the bathroom across the hall just in time to make it to a toilet. I shut my eyes in disgust as the contents of my stomach are displayed before me. The taste is terrible and so is the smell, so it's a good thing I carry mint gum. Just as the last of it splashes into the toilet bowl, I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of feet shuffling echo throughout the tiled room.

"Rachel?"

Speak of the devil.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and flush the toilet. When I open the stall door, Quinn is leaning against the counter. I glare at her, not saying anything as I move past to rinse my mouth out in the sink.

"I think I know what's going on, Rachel," she says. "You hardly even talk anymore, let alone sing, you've given up on chasing Finn, you don't participate in glee club, and you walk around like you're hiding something all the time. I know because that's how I was."

I don't respond.

"I've seen you run to the bathroom looking sick five times in the past week."

"I have the flu," I return, popping a stick of gum in my mouth.

"I saw you grab that test in Teen Health yesterday," she says flatly.

Well, shit.

I swallow hard and finally face her, trying to keep my confidence. "So why are you talking to me and not out ruining my life?"

She laughs. Bitch. "Rachel, I know how it feels, I wouldn't go out of my way to do that to another person."

I glare at her again. "Just leave me alone."

"Rachel," she sighs, "I know we haven't always been the best of friends...at all, but if you're pregnant you can tell me. We can talk about it. I honestly would like someone to talk to who knows what I'm going through. I know how hard it is to be alone."

I scoff. "You don't know the first thing about feeling alone. Sure, I have parents and you don't, but everyone still adores you at this school. You have friends and the father of your baby is actually taking responsibility for it. As for me, it's only a matter of time before everyone starts outcasting me more than they already do."

"I won't tell anyone," she says. "I promise."

I shake my head and drop the gum wrapper in the waste basket on my way out of the bathroom. "I don't believe you."

-/-


	7. Chapter 7

-/-

The band excruciatingly bangs out the school song, loudly. I feel another headache coming on as I sit down on the edge of the bleachers. I don't have to look up to know that the entire glee club is staring at me. They sit together on the opposite side, even Finn and Puck. They're probably wondering why I'm all the way over here. Mr. Schuester and Quinn are not.

I also don't have to look up to know that Quinn is watching her former fellow Cheerios do their stunts, wishing she were back out there. Wishing she wasn't stuck with a baby, like I am. I almost feel sorry for her.

I turn my attention back to the presentation before me. I hate pep assemblies. Well, I do now anyway. There's nothing in the world for me to feel peppy about.

I glance at my flat stomach, knowing that it won't be so for much longer.

I think that this is finally beginning to sink in. I've been denying it for awhile, even since before I took the test and found out. I think I knew it the moment the thought rose in my mind. So why has it taken so long for me to accept it? And if I have known for that long, why do I still have no idea what to do? I know that I would never get an abortion, but do I give it away? Do I keep it, even though it's his?

God, I haven't even told my parents yet! How the hell am I supposed to tell them something like that? I'm their only child, their perfect daughter! They'll be so disappointed! What if they disown me like Quinn's did? Could they possibly do that?

I'll have to put that off for a little while longer, as much as I know it's a bad idea. But I really need to focus on other things right now.

I'm watching a skinny cheerleader do a flip when my vision unintentionally spots the glee club. I was right, some of them are looking at me. Including him. He's all the way across the gym but I know he's looking at me with those pleading eyes, like he always does. What I don't know, however, is what exactly they plead about. Not to tell anyone about him? Or to start acting like my old self again? Not that he cares. Like Santana said, I carry the weight in this club. He couldn't care less about my situation.

 _Boom! Boom! Boom!_ I'm sitting close to the school band, particularly the guy who plays bass drum. The noise is starting to make me feel nauseous...shit.

I feel his eyes on the back of my head when I get up and burst through the gym doors. I wonder if he even has a clue.

-/-

Oh, how I hate Spanish.

A naive, over-achieving Rachel Berry had chosen a desk in the very front row on the first day of school. We haven't changed seats since. The most uncomfortable part of my day is this period, where there is literally no way to avoid looking at Mr. Schuester. We mutually make an effort to avoid eye contact with each other. Right now, he stands leant against the whiteboard and surveys the classroom with a dull expression.

My peers are especially bored today, which is why nobody is volunteering to answer any questions. I'm not really bored, but I remain silent for obvious reasons. I can tell that Mr. Schuester is starting to get irritated.

"I really doubt that not a single one of you can handle this," he says monotonously. "Come on, this is from last month. Say a phrase using a pronoun and a verb in past tense."

I watch his eyes slowly drift across the room, and they land on me. I instantly glare at him with a look that says 'Don't you dare pick me!'. He audibly sighs. "Rachel?"

I don't have to think very long before something comes to mind.

"Usted arruinó mi vida," I answer stiffly.

He raises an eyebrow, and I can tell he doesn't immediately recognize the phrase. "You ruined my- oh," he stops abruptly.

You ruined my life.

"Um...yeah, that works I guess," he mutters.

Thankfully, the dismissing bell rings and my classmates who were nodding off just a second ago flood out of the door. I tiredly gather my books and follow them, briefly meeting his gaze. But something startles me, and I look again.

His eyes look soft.

I know I have to look away but those eyes are entrancing me, something about them, just...I don't know. They're not electric green like the ones in my dreams. They're not the dark forest color they were on that awful night. They're just...soft. And they remind me of 'Endless Love' and venison casserole and I hate them instantly when I realize this.

I look away quickly, because I know I was staring too long. It's painfully obvious that he wants to say something, but I ignore him and leave finally, the hallway saving me. What the hell was that?

"Rachel, wait up!"

Is that Quinn's voice? I turn around and to my surprise, there she is, hustling down the hall to catch up to me. Won't she be shunned for speaking to me in public?

"Hey, what's up?" she asks.

"Nothing."

I know what she said to me in the bathroom yesterday, but I have a hard time believing that she willingly wants to be my friend. But, then again, she hasn't told anyone about me. That I know of.

"I was wondering I could come over tonight," she says. "Of course, I'd invite you to my house, but it's not really my house and-"

"Why? What do you want to come over for?" I interrupt, a little suspicious.

She shrugs. "Well I figured we could talk more about what's going on. It's nice talking to somebody who's dealing with the same problems as me."

Try dealing with being around your rapist every day, I want to retort. But I don't.

"Okay..." I reluctantly answer. "But aren't you going to get shunned for being my friend?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'm having a baby, maintaining my popularity is already a long-shot, Rachel."

We turn a corner, and I see some groups of people that stare at her while talking amongst themselves, quietly. I know what she means.

"Can I ask you something?" I inquire. She nods. "Do you still hate me?"

Quinn smiles a little and shakes her head. "Rachel, I've never hated you," she says. "I mean, yeah I don't like your little attempts to get Finn, and frankly I still think you're annoying and self-centered and dorky-"

I shoot her an irritated look.

"-but I think if we really tried we could be friends," she finishes. "And I'd like that. I'd like a friend who knows what I'm going through."

I stop at my locker and open it, exchanging some books. "Well to be completely honest, I have my reservations about you too," I say. "But I don't really have any friends. Beggars can't be choosers."

I shut my locker and turn back around to face Quinn, who flashes me a smile.

"Alright then, I'll find you after school."

-/-

"It's...cute," she tries.

I roll my eyes. I know that my bedroom looks a bit immature to others my age, but I like it this way. It's decorated to represent who I am, and if my combination of shabby chic and gold stars isn't in style, so be it. At least it doesn't look the interior of a Victoria's Secret dressing room, like some girls opt to have.

Quinn goes to my bed and sits on it, crossing her legs. I remain by the door and take a seat in my desk chair. "What do you want to talk about?" I ask. She presses her lips together.

"I guess a place to start would be telling me the bastard who did this to you. How it happened."

Ah, no.

"I can't," I bluntly say.

She looks at me curiously. "Why not?"

I hesitate. Should I really be talking about this? "Um...it's complicated," I start slowly. "He's older than us. And-"

"How older?" Quinn interrupts.

"He's just older than us," I return, hoping she'll take a hint that I'm not telling her. "We have many things in common, the same interests, and I fell in love with him. But he didn't return my feelings."

Quinn looks confused. "If he didn't like you back, then why did he have sex with you?"

There's a pang in my chest and I realize that this is going to be hard. I've never said any of this out loud before. I draw in a breath.

"I...he found me one night, alone. He was drunk and..." I hear myself trailing off as I wonder how to continue. I gulp. "...and he said, 'Wanna have some fun, Rach?"

I feel goosebumps on my arms when I say this. It takes a moment for me to collect myself again.

"He took advantage of me. He knocked me unconscious, and when I woke up he was gone," I finish hastily.

Quinn is staring at me. Maybe I shouldn't have told her this.

"Rachel, you need to call the police!" she exclaims. "He needs to be in jail!"

"No!" I blurt. "There are consequences, Quinn, you wouldn't understand. If he went to jail, I would suffer as well, maybe even more. And it's not like he's going to do it again anyway."

"You don't know that!" she protests.

"Yes I do! He's not...like that," I waver, a bit unsure. He isn't that kind of person...is he?

Quinn leans forward on the edge of the bed. "Well is he going to take care of the baby?" she asks me. "What are you doing with it anyway?"

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "I'm not killing it, for sure. And if I do keep it, he won't be involved. I haven't told him. I don't want him to be the father, and he wouldn't want to either. He has his own family."

Quinn's eyes widen. Oh no, I should not have said that.

"Rachel," she yells, "I thought when you said older you meant like, twenty! He has kids?!"

Well, one unborn kid that will always surpass mine in importance. But if I tell her that, she might put two and two together. So I say nothing.

"Rachel, what were you thinking?!"

I look away, ashamedly. "I just wanted somebody who could fulfill my needs maturely and intellectually. I was so stupid for thinking he'd want me!" I pause. "And he's not middle-aged, if that's what you're thinking, he's still young."

Quinn cocks her head. "Not young enough for you!" she exclaims. "He's a grown man, he needs to take responsibility for his actions!"

"Well I don't want him to," I retort. "I don't want him in my life. It's bad enough that I have to be around him every day."

"You do?"

I shouldn't have said that either. Now she might figure it out. "Never mind," I resume. "enough about my problems. You have problems too."

She chuckles at this. "Oh, stop it. You're off worse than I am."

I look back up, and I see her watching me solemnly. Sympathy shines in her eyes, which is relatively surprising. "Rachel, I'm so sorry," she says. "Honest. I can't even imagine what that's like."

"Thanks," I mumble. "I'm sorry that you got knocked up too."

We both laugh a little at that. I hear her digital watch beep, and she looks down at it.

"Oh," she says, "I'm supposed to meet Santana and Britt at four, so I have to go. I'll call you later, Rachel, okay?"

I manage a smile for her as she gets up to leave. "Okay."

And I think she's right. It is nice to have a friend.

-/-


	8. Chapter 8

-/-

 _Spots dance across my vision; everything's hazy and my eyes can't quite seem to focus on anything. In fact, it's all blurry. Yet there's a warm glow to it, and I feel a sense of peace._

 _I am suddenly aware of a gentle percussion playing in my ears. There are soft beats from a drum that remind me only of a stereotypical, cheesy 1980s ballad. Wait a minute...this is a stereotypical, cheesy 1980s ballad! My favorite duet, it's...wait, what is it? Why can't I think of it?_

 _"My love,_

 _There's only you in my life._

 _The only thing that's right."_

 _A man's voice is singing, somebody familiar but I can't remember who. He has a beautiful voice, it's warm and soothing and it flows like honey. Then, despite the fact that I can't seem to recall anything, I start singing along. It's a duet, is all I know, and this is my part._

 _"My first love,_

 _You're every breath that I take._

 _You're every step I make."_

 _I feel arms rested around my middle, and consciously I realize that mine are wrapped around the person's neck. It's the singer, I'm sure of it. My head rests against his broad chest; slowly it occurs to me that I'm dancing with this person._

 _Just as the chorus is starting up, my vision slowly comes into focus and I tilt my head up to see who it is. He gazes back down at me with a serene expression._

 _It's...him? What the-_

Suddenly he's gone. There's a sticky feeling in my throat, and I realize I'm looking at the underside of my duvet. Oh, it was another bad dream. But wait a minute, that wasn't a bad dream at all! That was actually nice, especially compared to what usually occupies them. What was it about again? I was singing and dancing with-

What the hell?

Why would I dream that?! I hate Mr. Schuester, I would never think of him in that way! I mean, at least not after what happened. After what he did to me. I'm never going to forgive him for that, and I will definitely never feel that way again. Maybe I'm just going insane. Or maybe when I looked at him yesterday it just reminded me of how I felt.

Oh, what am I worrying about? It's normal to realize the possibility of romantic connection between yourself and the father of your child, right? It doesn't mean that there is one. Okay, that's all I'm doing. I'm realizing that in a typical situation, two people having a baby are usually together romantically, and I can't help but draw a connection. It's nothing.

I begrudgingly slide off of my bed, my eyelids still heavy. I used to have so much energy that I hardly even needed sleep. Now it seems that no matter how much sleep I get, I'm still tired. Maybe it's the pregnancy.

 _Pregnancy_. God, that's still such a hard word for me to process. Just the fact that there's another person inside of me is just...woah. It doesn't seem real. I'm going to be a mother in less than a year, a mother! And to top it off, I haven't the slightest clue about what to do about it! It's become pretty clear to me that I'm leaning toward keeping it, although my dreams would be soiled. Quinn told me the other day that she's giving up her baby, she even knows the family already. I'm fairly certain that I could never bring myself to do that.

Then again, keeping it means staying in Lima.

Baby? Or New York?

Would I even be a good mother? How am I supposed to know how to be one, I never had one of my own! And I can't stay in Lima, I've dreamed about New York my entire life! Am I really going to give up everything I've ever worked for to have my rapist's baby?!

I quickly erase that thought. This is not his baby. This is my baby. And my baby will never be degraded to such a label.

I realize all of the turmoil that comes with giving up my child. Would it be worth it? Trading the one person in my life I'll unconditionally love and share one-of-a-kind experiences with, for a shot at fame and everything I've ever dreamed of? What will it think of me? Won't it wonder who I was, why I didn't keep it? Why I didn't love them enough, somehow?

No. I can't let that happen.

I think I'm keeping my baby.

-/-

This is good, I think. I just need to take my mind off of everything. I need to stop thinking about keeping my baby, being a mom, him-

Okay, stop.

I park my little red Malibu in a vacant spot and step out into the crisp autumn air. When my dad bought a new work car, he decided to let me have his old one. Technically, as a fifteen year-old I don't have a real license, only a permit, but my driving skills are superb and Lima's too small of a town for anyone to give a damn. Besides, all the farm kids start driving alone at a much younger age, so I'm just fine.

The door of the vinyl shop chimes when I open it, and the wonderful musty smell of old records fills my nose. Margaret, the middle-aged woman who runs it, smiles at me from the counter and gestures me over. As I walk up to it, I notice a slight quiver in her smile but I know why. We're acquainted well enough for her to know that I come here to distract myself from rough times.

"Rachel Berry!" she exclaims. "How are you doing, honey?"

I smile. "Fine, Margaret. Has anything come in that would spark my interest lately?"

She gives me a warm smile and leans forward on the counter. "Well," she says, her light blue eyes twinkling, "some gentleman came in here the other day and traded for an old Rolling Stones album. Guess what it was?"

"What?"

She reaches behind a stack of papers and pulls out a worn cardboard record cover. Barbra!

"The Third Album, Ms. Barbra Jean Streisand!" she announces proudly. "Oh Rachel, I just knew I had to get my hands on this one! You'd strangle me if I didn't!"

And she's right! I take it into my hands and feel a grin stretch across my face. I don't remember the last time I've smiled this genuinely! "Oh Margaret, you are simply the best! I've always wanted to have this one! How much?"

Margaret doesn't reply but simply gazes at me and shakes her head. "Oh no, I cannot just take this one!" I protest. "An original copy from 1964, this has to be worth a lot!"

She stands firm. "Now Rachel, I insist. Think of it as a token of my gratitude for helping me with filing last month!" Oh, I know there's no convincing her otherwise. I reach across the counter and hug her gingerly.

"Thank you so much!"

She laughs happily. "Oh, you're welcome dear! The look on your face is worth it, trust me!"

I sigh contentedly and carefully place the record into a plastic sack. "Well, I'm going to go browse your Broadway section, I still want to pay you for something today."

She nods, and before I know it, I'm engrossed in reading the song lists from two different productions, trying to decide which one I'd rather have. The door chimes again but I don't really register it until I hear someone greet Margaret and I freeze.

"-selection on classic rock. You see I'm the director of a show choir, and I was hoping to draw some inspiration from that raw, vinyl sound."

And just like that, I remember why I came here in the first place. My happiness drains away just as fast.

Out of all the goddamn people in Lima to run into,

WHY THE HELL IS IT HIM?!

How does this keep happening to me? Is my entire life just one big, ironic, disaster?

Keep it cool, I command myself. I take a deep breath and strut out from behind the shelf, legs threatening to topple over. "Well, didn't find anything, see you later Margaret."

I must've said that way too fast but it doesn't matter now. I feel a hole burning into my forehead as I approach the door, now I have to concentrate on keeping it together! Don't make eye contact, don't make eye-

Damnit! Look away, Rachel! Look away!

He stands beside the counter with a surprised expression; his mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised. For some reason I manage to catalogue every single detail about him. The way his sculpted arms are exposed from under his plain cotton tee, how his hair is product-less and messily curly, the short scruffiness on his jaw from not shaving. Everything that's such a contrast from every other day.

Mostly, I notice his eyes.

They look at me inquiringly and I'm instantly reminded of how they looked on Friday. A soft pastel color, like...spring. It evokes a warm feeling in my chest, and this throws me off. Wait, what? As I begin to regain my thoughts, I sullenly realize that my feet have come to a complete stop.

Damnit!

I scuffle out of the door in an attempt to make up for it as I feel my cheeks flourish. Why in the hell am I so obsessed with his eyes?! Do they remind me so much of that week that I can't help but stare? Am I so used to remembering his dark, drunk ones that these throw me off guard? Is it both, neither? What the hell has been going on in my head?!

I pull out of the parking lot, so fast I almost get whiplash.

I have to get away from here. That's the only thing I know for certain.

-/-


	9. Chapter 9

-/-

I have a bad feeling in my gut when I walk up to the main entrance Monday morning.

The heavy door shuts behind me with a thud and I instantly feel the eyes on me. Damn my intuition. Slowly, I allow myself to look up from the ground; something I haven't done in weeks.

Everyone is staring at me.

The only sound is of my hesitant footsteps on the marble floor. This can't be my imagination, I realize, and my face flushes. I can hear snickering and whispering along the sides of the lockers, people look at me with expressions of distaste. I try to ignore it, but then I hear one particularly loud whisper, and a word that catches my attention. _Pregnant_.

And then it occurs to me; they know.

Before I can even begin to process this, Quinn appears out of nowhere and she grabs me by the shoulders. I see her lips form the words 'it wasn't me', but I don't hear them. There's a ringing in my head, or a loud buzz. What the hell?! Everyone knows! How did this happen, how could I trust her! I am such an idiot! I can't believe she told everybody! What kind of person would sink so low as to-

Santana comes around the corner with a sinister smile. She looks at Quinn, who promptly narrows her eyes, and I instantly know that she's behind this. "What's up, Lil Mama?" she smirks.

My voice is gone. I try to say something, I try so desperately to, but the words I want to say are stuck in my throat. I can't make a sound.

I want to die.

Santana grins over at Quinn, who is now hanging her head. And then she looks at me. "Congratulations. Really, I mean it!" she exclaims. "Of course, I had to hear the news from Juno over here."

I knew it. Quinn doesn't move her head, but I know that she can see me glaring at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Santana asks with mock-concern, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She puts her hand on my shoulder. "I thought we were friends."

"You bitch!" I finally spit, jerking away from her hand. She laughs.

"Two can play that game, Man-hands. Or should I say...Hobbit. Treasure-trail. RuPaul." With each word she takes a step closer to me, each more menacing than the last. Finally she stands over me, and glances at my stomach.

"Knocked-up _slut_ ," she says barely above a whisper, as if testing the words on her lips.

Before I can think, my hand swings up from my side and smacks her face with a loud, satisfying sound. Oh my god! What did I just do?!

Her head immediately snaps back up; instantaneously I know I'm dead and a squeak escapes my throat. I close my eyes waiting for the worst, but instead I hear her low, rueful chuckle.

"That was pathetic," she laughs. "And why me? I'm not the one who spoiled your little secret."

Santana walks away and as her laughter floats down the hallway, I remember who's standing beside me. I turn to her with the last ounce of confidence I have left. Her eyes search my face. I know she's wondering what I'm going to do, because I wonder the same thing. And only one thing keeps repeating itself in my head.

"You were my only friend!" is all I say, tears boiling in my eyes, before I hurry away in the opposite direction.

"Rachel! Wait!"

Tears are now flooding my cheeks. Somehow I find a bench in some deserted hallway and I practically collapse onto it. My life is over! How am I supposed to go on like this?! I already know that it's only going to get worse! Maybe I should just end this, maybe I should just do everyone a favor and jump off of a bridge! My poor child shouldn't be brought into this world, and I don't deserve to be in it any longer! It's clear that everyone hates me! I'm trash, I'm ruined, I'm just damaged goods! I need to die!

"Rachel?" I hear Quinn whisper.

My fists remain pressed against my face. Go away, you lying bitch.

"Please let me explain!" she pleads.

"There's nothing to explain!" I retort.

I feel the weight of the bench shift as she sits down next to me. "I know you hate me Rachel, I would hate me too. I...I made a mistake, I was very, very stupid, and I know that. Please just hear me out. You don't have to forgive me, just please listen."

I say nothing.

"Santana saw me talking to you on Friday. She called me out on it later, and then she started saying all these awful things about you...I tried to defend you. I talked about how you're such a good person to talk to, how you listen to my problems and give advice," Quinn emphasizes. "How you're such a great friend. Then...then I wasn't thinking about it, and I said I wouldn't have even known if you weren't also-"

"Pregnant," I finish stiffly.

She sighs. "I cut myself off before that. But she knew, she knew what I was about to say because goddamnit, she's...Santana Lopez."

I ponder this for a moment. So she did have good intentions, but now the entire school knows. Well, thanks to Santana anyway.

"I begged her not to say anything," she continues. "Well, I denied it first, but then she went on and said that she noticed the same things I had, save for the test. I knew I couldn't go back, she's too clever. Rachel, please believe me, I tried to stop her!"

I believe her. I know I shouldn't, but I do. That doesn't mean I forgive her though.

"I...I can't forgive you," I whisper hoarsely. "I was supposed to have more time! I deserve it, don't I? I know it was going to be out there eventually, but...I-I feel like everyone else is finding out the same time as me! I've only known for two weeks!"

I start crying again, and Quinn puts her hand on my shoulder. Oh, I know she didn't mean for this to happen. I mean, she could be lying about it all, but I have a feeling she isn't. And when was the last time my gut feeling let me down, anyway? She does seem to feel bad about it.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. I really am," she says. I sniffle, hesitate, and then wrap my arms around her waist in a hug. She strokes my back, and it feels nice to be hugged. I haven't been hugged in a long time and I've been needing one.

Then my gentle sob slowly turns into a laugh.

"Look at us," I giggle, still recovering from my tears. "A couple of pregnant teenagers crying on a bench, missing class! We're a mess, Quinn!"

She laughs too. "But a hot mess!"

We sit there for awhile; laughing, crying and hugging. It occurs to me that I've been only thinking about myself; she's in the same situation as I am. Maybe I _can_ trust her.

-/-

This just might be the worst day of my life.

Well, second-worst.

This is exactly what I had predicted, maybe worse. Why does everyone here hate me? I know that I'm not the friendliest person around, but have I really discriminated against every person in the school? What do they have against me?

It's crossed my mind that all of these strangers know I'm pregnant, yet my parents don't. I feel so guilty not telling them. I'm just so afraid of how they'll react, especially seeing how Quinn's did, and what they'll say. How am I supposed to tell them I was raped?! If I do, I know they will demand who it is and press charges. I can't let that happen! But they'll be so disappointed if I tell them I was just being a careless teenager, and I don't know the father. Yet, that's what I have to do.

Am I really giving up my respect to protect my rapist?

I sling my backpack over my shoulders, shut my locker, and head toward the door. Finally, today is over. I can only hope that this is as bad as it gets. As I stride to the exit, I ignore the stares and jests from the people around me. All I have to do is make it out that door.

I feel a pressure on my arm and it stops me from going forward.

I spin around to see who it is, and _goddamnit_! I give him the nastiest look possible I yank my arm away. "Don't touch me!" I snarl.

Mr. Schuester looks angry, making me a bit uneasy, and he speaks with a tight-lipped voice. "I have to talk to you," he says, grabbing my arm again and pulling me out of the main corridor. This just about sends me into a riot.

"I said don't touch me!" I repeat irritably, getting free of his grip again.

"How could you not tell me?" he asks furiously.

"Tell you what?" I know what he means.

"You're not stupid, Rachel," he says, "You know exactly what I'm talking about! That's my kid, and I have a right to know!"

"It is not!" I protest.

"I'm not stupid either Rachel, I know that I'm the only person you've ever slept with," he argues.

This particular bit makes me laugh. "Slept with? You never slept with me, you-"

He shoves his hand across my mouth, so no one can hear me say it. Ugh! This almost sends me over the edge; somehow I keep my cool and jerk away.

"Just saying," I continue angrily, "this isn't the first time you've forced my mouth shut like that. And you're not the only one I've had sex with, by the way! This baby is not yours!"

He looks defeated, but still tense. "Rachel, I know it's mine," he says. "And I have an obligation. You know what the worst part is? I had to find out from overhearing the freshman gossip in Spanish 1! Do you have any idea how demeaning that is?!"

"I think I know a thing or two about demeaning!" I retort. "And for the last time, it isn't yours!"

"Yes it is!" he protests.

"Is not!"

I want to storm away before I have a complete meltdown, but he stops me. "I have to be responsible, Rachel!"

I turn back around on my heels and stare straight up into his face, my nostrils flaring. "Responsible?! Then you should've thought of that before you decided to get shit-faced drunk and _rape_ me! If you want to take care of a child so bad, take care of the one your goddamn wife is giving you!"

I'm able to get away this time.

-/-


	10. Chapter 10

-/-

"So...you were just going to _give_ her your baby?"

My mouth is dry. Quinn sits cross-legged on my bed, hands clenched in her tousled blonde hair. So apparently the 'more important baby' I subconsciously hated never even existed at all. Terri Schuester is not pregnant. And had all went as planned, she was going to take Quinn's and pass it off as her own. What the hell?!

"Rachel, I had no idea what was supposed to happen," she says. "Terri gave me money for supplements, doctor's appointments... I had no way to pay for them myself. And I knew exactly where my baby was going. You know Mr. Schue, he's such a great guy."

My jaw clenches.

"I knew him and his wife would give my baby a better life than I ever could," she continues. "I mean, I'm kicked out of my own house for crying out loud."

This is crazy. I'm not even sure that this would be legal! And to give it to him?! The very person I'm making sure is not involved with my baby?! And how am I just hearing about this, we tell each other about every little thing! "Does Finn know?" I ask incredulously.

"No."

She suddenly looks very uncomfortable, which alarms me. Finn didn't know that the adoptee of his baby was going to be his very own teacher?! Unknowingly?! Quinn presses her fingers to her temples and lets out a low, long sigh.

"Rachel," she starts, "I...we trust each other, right? I mean, I know last week I screwed up, but I'm really the only person you talk to. And I'm fairly certain that you've only told me about the rape. So I can tell you something...right?"

"Yes," I answer, suspicion tracing my voice. What more has she not told me?

Quinn takes a deep breath. "Finn is not the father. Puck is."

My jaw drops. "What?! You've been lying to him this entire time?!"

"It was a mistake!" she exclaims. "It was over the summer, he got me drunk on wine coolers and I just...let him do his thing. It was the lowest moment of my life, I didn't want to cheat! And I've never even had sex with Finn, don't ask me what he thinks happened."

"Does-"

"Puck knows," she confirms. "He wants to be the father, but it has to be Finn. He's been helping me with money, too. And he said that Mercedes knows, he told her for some reason, so I've been talking to her about it." Quinn looks up from her hands and into my eyes. "She wants me to tell Finn the truth. She...she even told me she'll take me in after he-"

Suddenly she chokes on her words, tears spilling over her eyes. "Dumps me," she finishes. "But how the hell am I supposed to tell him?"

I don't know what to say. I really don't. How could she be hiding so much inside all this time? She told me about her body problems, money problems, other little things...how could she let on so much and yet keep this a secret? Not only from me, but from Finn!

"Quinn, you have to tell him!" I say. "It would be cruel to keep this from him! And a secret like this is just going to eat you up inside, it'll drive you insane."

"It already has, trust me," she says quietly.

"Sit down with him, have a civil conversation," I advise. "Don't let him find out from Puck or anyone else. It has to be from you."

She nods, wiping away tears. "You're right, Rachel. Thank you."

She gives me a tight hug, grabs her purse, and slips out of my bedroom. What a crazy situation! Then again, I'm in one too. But I can't even imagine lying to the person I love every day, leading them on like that. And what an awful thing to lie about!

Wait a minute.

I really am doing the same thing, aren't I? My dads have no idea about what's going on; I'm basically lying to them! Oh, I have to tell them. I have to get this over with. They're going to find out sooner or later, and the longer I put it off, the worse the outcome will be. Besides, I've known for three weeks and I haven't had a doctor's appointment. When am I supposed to go to the doctor? When am I supposed to do... _anything_? I have no idea how to approach this, I need their help.

I need their support.

-/-

"Rachel, sit down."

I freeze on the stairs, my hand beginning to tremble on the railing. My dads sit solemnly at the kitchen table. Daddy's face is too stiff, as if he's trying to mask his true feelings, and Dad just looks plain serious. Only one thought occurs to me- they know.

I silently walk down the last few steps and I sit down at my spot at the table. I'm afraid to say anything, to initiate the conversation, so I remain quiet.

"Rachel," Dad sighs, "Edna called us this afternoon, right after you got home from school."

I can feel my blood freeze in my pulse. Edna is the school nurse, one of my dads' close friends. God, of course she's heard the news, it's all over school! Oh my god, they know!

"She told us that there's a rumor about you going around school," he continues. "A, uh, particularly big rumor."

The silence is deafening as I watch him choose his next words. He knows that I know what he's about to say. Daddy, sitting beside him, is completely motionless.

"Uh...people have been saying that, um...that you're...pregnant," he hastens.

The ringing in my ears have returned.

"Of course," Daddy adds desperately, "we know how rumors are, and how your peers have been treating you. High school is rough. Rumors are usually untrue, and we know that you're a perfectly smart, responsible young lady. And-"

Dad cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. He sighs and stretches his mouth into an exhausted smile, obviously trying to relieve tension. "Rachel," he says, "this rumor isn't true, right?"

He tries to ask this light-heartedly, as if it's a joke. Usually a rumor like this would be. But this is not a usual situation. My heart wrenches as I watch his hopeful smile slowly fade with my continued silence.

I take a shaky breath; it's amplified in my ears. I feel a hot tear drop onto my lip; they see it and their faces fall.

"It's true," I whisper.

A loud 'oh!' slips out from Daddy involuntarily as soon as I say it. He presses a clenched fist against his mouth and his eyes are glassy with tears. Oh my god, what have I done?!

Dad hasn't seemed to process it yet. He sits there, blinking at me, unable to understand. "What?" he asks.

"I-" I try to talk but my throat is incredibly swollen. "I'm having a baby."

"No!" Daddy cries out, now openly weeping. He reaches across the table and touches my face, stroking my cheek. "No, Rach! You can't have a baby, you're _my_ baby!"

"Oh Rachel," Dad says softly. "What were you thinking?"

I'm now crying, too. This is the most humiliating thing I've ever done in my entire life! "I'm sorry!" I wail. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"What happened?" Dad asks, his voice wavering.

Ugh.

"I..."

I could tell them what happened. God, how easy would it be to let those three words spill from my lips. How easy would it be to place all of the blame on him. I know I'm going against everything I believe in as an independent woman, not speaking up. Maybe I could-

"I went to a party."

And there went the last bit of respect I had for myself.

"I was drunk," I lie. "I don't know who it was."

They look at me, crushed. Completely crushed. I did this to them. Not him, not anyone else. Me.

Dad rubs his temples, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Rachel..." I know what's coming.

" _How could you be so irresponsible?_ "

I'm sobbing now. I can't help but collapse my head on the table. "I don't know!" I cry out.

"How long have you known?" Daddy asks.

"Three weeks."

They both sigh. I feel him put his arm around my shoulder and he kisses my hair. "Are you sure? We really need to get you to a doctor, sweetie."

"I'm sure," I murmur. I raise my head up, eyes sticky. "You're not going to throw me out, are you?"

"Of course not!" Dad exclaims. "Whatever would make you think that?!"

"Quinn's parents did," I answer.

"Really?" Daddy says. "That's awful. So that's why you're friends."

Dad aimlessly runs his thumb over my smooth wrist. "Do you want the baby, Rachel?"

"Yes."

"You have to be sure," he says. "Raising a baby is a big responsibility. Your dad and I aren't going to do it for you, you know."

"I know that!" I respond, suddenly irritated. "And I'm sure. I've been thinking about it a lot."

Daddy looks thoughtful. "You have been so distant lately. And sad. Now we know why." He looks up. "Last month, that black eye-"

"That didn't have to do with it," I quickly finish.

We're all silent for a long moment. Then abruptly, Daddy starts crying again and he covers his face. "I just feel like such a bad parent!" he says. "How could I not notice something was wrong?"

My heart sinks. "Don't say that. You're the best dads I could ever ask for," I try. "You didn't do anything wrong."

I look up at them again with heavy eyes.

"I...I did."

-/-


	11. Chapter 11

-/-

Sectionals turned out to be a disastrous victory.

First of all, Finn did not take the news lightly. The day after he found out, he attacked Puck on first sight and promptly quit Glee Club. Apparently Mercedes told all of the others. They had known long before he did, and when he found this out, he cursed us all to hell and stormed out of the room. I don't blame him, though.

So his absence left us one member short for competition requirements. We compensated by convincing the biggest embarrassment to my Jewish faith, Jacob Ben Israel, to be an extra 'sway-in-the-back-and-don't-sing' performer. To which I had to spend the entire bus ride having him pester me about pregnancy details, as he happens to be the school's in-formal gossip and blogger.

Then, as if I couldn't be any more stressed, we discovered that our setlist was leaked by none other than Sue Sylvester, surprise-surprise. The two other choirs decided to, in fact, use that to their advantage and each performed a song that we were going to do. We performed last, so if we did them we'd appear to be copying. So we had to start completely from scratch, an hour before we were due to perform.

But just as things looked like it was all over, Finn showed up out of nowhere, with a song idea too. I guess the adrenaline helped us to create the choreography in a flash, but we still needed a new solo. I assumed it would go to Mercedes, as she was going to do it anyway, but then she freaked out and said that she couldn't perform on-the-fly. So they turned to me.

I didn't want to sing a solo. I've stopped practicing since October and I still can't find the passion I've always had for singing. But they all insisted that I was the only one who could do it, and I can't keep letting them down. So I agreed. And there's only one song in my repertoire that doesn't require practice. I've had it memorized since I could only babble it and I could sing it backwards if I tried.

Don't Rain On My Parade- Barbra Streisand, my idol, and from my favorite movie of all time, Funny Girl. It's kind of symbolic, for more than one reason. I tried to channel all of my hurt into it while I sang; maybe that's why I did it so well. As everyone came out onto the stage to do our next number, I could see the shock and excitement in their faces.

So despite all of the obstacles thrown at us, we ending up winning. We won our very first competition; why am I sitting here feeling so numb?

I'm currently riding the bus back home to Lima. It's dark out, it's cold because it's about thirty degrees and there's no heating, and I couldn't be any more uncomfortable. Especially since Mr. Schuester is sitting in the seat across the aisle from me.

I deliberately chose a seat in the very back because I figured he'd sit in the front, but I guess the universe is out to get me once again. I'd feel less vulnerable if I had Quinn to sit next to, but she went home with Mercedes. In fact, I'd even feel less vulnerable if this bus had more people on it. It's only me, him, Tina, Puck, and stupid Jacob Ben Israel. Everyone else had a ride.

I pretend to be focused on peeling away my nail polish, because I know that he's watching me. I guess I'm used to this by now, and I don't really give a damn. Look all you want, asshole. You won't get a rise out of me.

I sneak a glance at him every once in awhile, discreetly. There's still a trace of a smile on his lips; his face glows with what I think is either joy, relief, or pride. Maybe all three. Winning this competition has really made him happy, I wish it would do the same for me. Don't I deserve to be happy more than him?

I look over again and we make eye contact. Shit! I avert mine quickly, and can only hope that he doesn't see my surely reddened face in this dim light. I hear him clear his throat. And then I hear him get up from the seat.

I turn my head- aah! He's sitting down next to me! My heart rate speeds up, I push myself against the bus window and bring my knees up against my chest for protection. "No!" I choke out.

Mr. Schuester's smile fades on his face. He sighs. "Can I please just have a pleasant conversation with you?" he asks softly.

The tone of his voice is making me remember something...wait, it's coming back to me- twinkling piano keys, a box with that royal blue tie, tension in the car-

NOPE!

I do not respond to him.

"Rachel, I...I," he stammers, "I just want you to know that I feel so horrible about all of this."

I wonder if he's lying. I mean, he could be genuine, if there's any morsel of good left in his soul. I would feel pretty bad too if I raped and impregnated a teenager.

"And I know that apologizing doesn't do anything," he continues, "And I know that what I did is unforgivable. You have every right to hate me."

"What are you getting at?" I finally ask.

He runs a hand quickly through his hair, blinks hard, opens and closes his mouth like he wants to say something but can't. What the hell is going on?

"I...I want to help," he hastens to say. "I- the baby, I mean. I want to be involved, I don't want you to have all the burden. I know that this baby is completely my fault, you don't deserve to-"

"And why should I let you anywhere near my child?" I demand. "You find out you're not getting a baby from your wife, and all of a sudden you want mine?"

He closes his eyes in defeat, wincing a little. "Rachel, I... Please just let me do something!" he pleads. "I understand if you don't want me around, but please just let me pay for my own kid. Hospital bills, clothes, diapers...anything. I have to do something."

This shocks me. I knew he said he wanted to be 'responsible' or something, but I didn't know he actually wanted to be reasonable! This, this might work. Raising a baby is going to be expensive and child support might be like...super helpful. He doesn't have to be around, and I get his money. This actually sounds decent.

But wait! Aren't I supposed to be doing this on my own? Aren't I supposed to be proving to him that I don't need his help? I don't need his help, this is my problem! And he shouldn't be able to pay his way out of this mess, either!

The bus slowly comes to a stop, and I realize we're in the high school parking lot.

"I have to think about it," I mumble, standing up fast. I want to leave but he blocks my path, puts an arm across the seat.

"Can we talk about this more?" he asks. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

My breath draws in, and he notices. "Rachel, it's just over the phone," he says. "I swear on my life it's nothing bad, we just need to figure this out."

"I...I..." I stutter, trying to think about the possible outcomes. What could he possibly do with my phone number?

Reluctantly, I pull a pen and paper from my bag and I scribble my number onto it, thrusting it into his hand.

"Call tomorrow night," I mutter. Then I push past him and stalk off the bus.

-/-

I WANT TO DIE

I WANT TO DIE

I WANT TO DIE

It's these four words that keep flashing before my eyes, white-hot burning in my head. I want to die! I really want to die!

Nobody gives a shit about me! Even my dads don't, they find out their daughter's pregnant and go on another goddamn business trip! I'm all alone in this house most of the fucking time! Everyone hates me and this baby, so why should we go on living any longer?! I don't want to bring this child into a world where people will judge them and tell them they aren't worth anything! The poor baby didn't do anything wrong!

And why should a worthless whore like me go on any longer, either?! I'm trash! I'm ruined! I can't even live out my dreams anymore so what's the point?! Why should I lose the rest of my dignity being stuck in this town with a baby I had at sixteen?!

I'm sobbing now. My stupid face is probably all red and bloated and my stupid eyes are probably bloodshot. I don't even care anymore. And maybe that's it! Maybe what's killing me the most is the fact that I've gone from sad all the time to just feeling nothing all the time! Why don't I feel anything anymore?! I've completely given up on singing, I don't even care when Mr. Schuester bothers me, and worst of all- I don't care whether this baby lives or not! I have no feelings toward it, or anything at all! What kind of sick person am I?!

That's it, I decide. I have to end this.

I drag myself off of my bed and I practically run to the kitchen. I have to do this before I chicken out. I open the junk drawer, where I know one is, and I pull it out with trembling hands. A razor blade.

Just the very sight of it makes me cry even harder. I'm really doing this. I'm really killing myself.

It feels like walking a mile the way back to my bedroom. My heart is pounding in my chest, like that bass drum I sat behind at the pep assembly. My sobbing has now turned into hyperventilating, I find, because I literally cannot slow or stop. But hey. I'm feeling something.

Right as I'm about to open the door to my en suite, I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of my phone ringing. Oh right. Him.

I snatch the phone from my dresser and hurl it open, not bothering to say anything or even to read the caller ID. I know it's him.

"Rachel?" he says. "Hey, is this a good time to- Rachel, what's wrong?"

Oh yeah. I'm still crying.

"Mr.- _Will_ ," I answer instead, just to make it easier, "don't worry about me or this baby anymore. We're not going to be around."

"What?"

"I'm killing myself!" I shout into the phone. "I won't be bothering you or anyone else anymore. Congratulations!"

"What the-"

I snap the phone shut before he can finish that sentence, and I throw it onto my bed. Retrieving the razor, my sobbing starts up again, so much I begin to feel dizzy. Am I really about to do this? Is this really my last day on Earth?

I run into the bathroom before I can change my mind.

-/-


	12. Chapter 12

-/-

My skin almost hisses when it hits the scalding water. Good. That means I'm feeling something.

I never thought it would come to this. I always thought that I'd be stronger than whatever life threw at me, that I'd never take the coward's way out. But here we are. I guess I really am a coward.

I settle down into the tub, my body practically screaming to be cooled off, but I ignore it. Like I said, it makes me feel something. Thick steam rises up around me; I can't help but compare myself to soup and it makes me laugh a little though I'm still crying. I can already see my skin turning red under the burning water.

My heart beats so loudly that I can hear it, as I take the razor into my fingers. I can hear my uneven breathing as I raise it to my wrist. It's now or never.

Slowly, I glide it along the smooth skin until it breaks with an angry sting. Aah! I cry out involuntarily at the pain. Bubbles of crimson spurt up from the neat line; they shimmer in the light as if taunting me. So I run the blade over it again and drop my wrist into the water, a cloud of red blossoming upon impact. It's actually quite pretty.

I repeat this with my other wrist and watch, my sobbing becoming more frantic, as the bath water becomes a tinted pink. Oh my god, I actually did it! Oh my god, I'm going to die!

Then it occurs to me.

I'm a murderer!

I'm murdering my own baby! I hadn't thought about that way! What will happen to it after I bleed out, will it die slowly and painfully?! Oh, the poor thing! I don't want my baby to suffer! And now it's too late!

I bring my knees up to my chest, soaked with the stained water, and I weep against them pitifully. I'm going to hell for killing my child! Oh, please let God understand! I'm sparing it from a horrible life, I don't mean to be cruel! Please God, please don't let it suffer!

I wonder how long this is going to take. I already feel dizzy and nauseous from the blood loss, or maybe it's the crying, but maybe I should make a deeper cut! I just want this to be over with!

"Rachel?"

My head shoots up. What the hell is Mr. Schuester doing here?! I hear the front door slam and his heavy footsteps on the floor below. "Rachel!" he calls again.

I'm not going to respond to him. I bury my face back into my knees, still crying, and pray that God will just take me soon. I locked the door to the bathroom so he can wait out there for me to die.

How does he know where I live? What the- oh yeah, he drove me home back in October, back when I was obsessing over him. Doing the things that got me into this situation in the first place. What a stupid little bitch I was. But I guess I still am.

The water is gradually turning a darker color with my blood, and the metallic smell is now evident. I can't believe that this is how I'm going to die! I'm going to be dead in a short while, dead! And no one's even going to miss me! It's a strange feeling knowing that this bathroom is the last thing I'm going to see, these thoughts I'm thinking are the last things I'll ever think. What are my last words? Congratulations? Damn. I wish it was something more meaningful.

"Rachel!"

He's outside of the bathroom door now, I can tell from his voice. Why does he care if I die? Is he so hellbent on getting a kid? Actually, he probably knows that he's the reason behind all of this and just doesn't want to live with the guilt, doesn't want my blood on his hands. So I keep ignoring him and I cry, I cry as loud as I want. I don't care about hiding my tears anymore. I watch them drop into the water, making little, even ripples. And I think he hears me because the door knob jiggles loudly.

"Rachel! Open the door!" he shouts. "Open the fucking door!"

It's a good thing I thought to lock it. I'll be damned if I'm interrupted while trying to kill myself; how could I possibly go on living after this? It's all over now! It's been done!

A loud bang makes me look up again. Followed by another, and another. Wait, is he trying to break down the door?! What the hell is he doing?! I gulp down air to try and steady my breathing, because I'm sobbing so hard I can't even talk.

"Leave...me...alone!" I scream, practically choking on my own tears.

"Don't do this!" he yells, followed by another bang. "Open the door, damnit!"

Suddenly there's a splintering crack. Aaah! The door swings open and slams against the wall, bouncing back. I scream in response, jumping against the tub. What the hell?! Mr. Schuester stands at the threshold- pausing, as if not knowing what to do, and looking completely bewildered. This definitely must be a strange sight.

"Get out of here!" I screech, automatically curling up into ball to protect myself.

These words somehow make him snap out of it, and his blank expression twists into a petrified one. "What the fuck did you do?!" he hollers. "Rachel, what did you do?!"

He stomps across the room towards me, and my heart beats so fast I think it might stop. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-

He grabs my shoulders, yanking me up, and I scream again. What the hell is he doing?! "Don't touch me!" I scream, gasping for air, "Don't touch me!"

I feel my arms being gripped and he drags me out of the tub, my legs flailing and splashing the colored water all over the bathroom. Oh my god, I'm completely naked! I'm completely naked and the man who raped me is looking at me, touching me!

"Go away!" I howl. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"

I land roughly on the cold tile floor, spitting and hissing like a riled up cat. I'm just starting to regain my balance when he grabs my forearms, pulling me up. He yanks my wrists closer to his face and looks at them, his eyes wide and round. They're still dripping with blood, and my hands are drenched in it. Then his head snaps back up and he looks at me with a wavering expression.

"Why would you do this?!" he demands. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

"I just want to die!" I wail. "Can't you just let me die? I just want to die!"

He acts like he doesn't hear me, and snatches a couple of towels from the rack more forcefully than needed. I cry out when he grabs my arms, because they really hurt, and again when he presses them against my wrists. "Stop it!" I yell. I would try to pull my arms away but he's gripping my wrists with the towels and I would only end up shredding them.

"You just take everything from me, don't you?" I exclaim. "My virginity, my innocence, my dreams and passions, my _will to live_!" I emphasize the last part. "And now you've taken my only way out! What did I ever do to you?!"

I feel his grip loosen around my wrists. He stares at me, blinking a few times, as if he can't comprehend what I just said. "Rachel, I-"

"And it doesn't matter how many times you apologize!" I interrupt. "What you did is unforgivable! Nothing can change that!"

"I know that!" he protests. "God, of course I know that!"

Either of us don't say anything for a moment as he catches his breath and I scoot over a little to reach my discarded bath robe, which had fallen off of the hook when the door broke in. Self-consciously, I wrap it around my naked body while shooting him a dirty look. He sighs.

"Rachel, I'm not-"

"I can't know that."

More silence. We stare at each other from either sides of my bathroom, but I still feel like he's too close to me. This, the pain in my wrists, and my nausea/headache is making me extremely uncomfortable.

"You honestly think that you have nothing to live for?" he asks me. "That being raped and having a baby is actually going to stop you from your dreams? Rachel, this doesn't seem like you at all."

"Don't tell me how I should feel!" I answer stiffly. "You don't know anything!"

"But I know you!" he protests. "I know that Rachel Berry would never let anything get in her way, let alone some bastard like me and a baby!"

"Well that Rachel is dead!" I shriek. "She's dead, Will, she's dead! Can't you see that?! Why should this...this _shell_ of a person keep going on?! Don't you see?! There's nothing left for me!"

"Don't say that!"

I'm startled by the forceful way he says this. I look back up at him again, and his eyes look wild, and his breathing is hitched.

"Don't," he repeats, hard. "It's...it's selfish, Rachel! How can you say that there's nothing left for you? If you had actually gone through with this tonight, if you had actually died, do you have any idea about what would happen? How many people would be just...completely _devastated_ about you? You are loved, Rachel! How can you say something like that?"

I don't respond to him. Why the hell is he even here? Why did he stop me, why is he telling me all of this?! He doesn't care about me, he raped me! Why is he going through all this trouble to try and apologize, can't he just accept that what he did is irreversible?

"I don't think you need stitches," he says, breaking the silence. "How do you feel? Did you lose much blood?"

I glare at him again. "No, thanks to you," I return icily. "All I am is nauseous and I have a headache. Don't worry. I'm sure your precious illegitimate child is fine."

He looks mildly hurt. "I'm worried about you too, you know."

Liar. There's another prolonged silence, only this one is even more tense. Mostly because I refuse to look at him.

"Why'd you do it?"

The question is asked in a hollow, empty whisper. But it isn't him asking; it's me. And he doesn't question what I mean, because he knows exactly what I'm talking about. His gaze at me visibly softens in a serene kind of way, and I realize that I might finally know the reason behind all of this, the burning question that's been on my mind since the moment it happened.

I see his Adam's apple dance, his eyes wander around the room in a nervous fashion. "Rachel, I didn't mean to do it," he grimaces. "You...saw the condition I was in."

"So it wasn't because of any specific reason," my raspy voice confirms. "Just because I happened to be there?"

"Um...uh, yeah."

The way he answers makes me a little suspicious. Usually with a question like that he answers 'yes' immediately. I look straight into his face, doubt beginning to overwhelm me again. What the hell did I do? How is this my fault now?!

"There was another reason, wasn't there?" I ask quietly, to hide my shakiness. Then he looks away from me, slowly stands up from his position on the wet tile floor. It takes a long time for him to open his mouth.

"I got drunk because I knew I wanted you."

And then he's gone.

-/-


	13. Chapter 13

-/-

"Wait!" I shriek, my weak voice cracking as I stumble to get up from the floor. "Will, wait!"

Cold beads of water splay in every direction from my wet hair, and my fingers fumble to tie the bathrobe that threatens to fall off as I clumsily hurry down the stairs. The sentence plays over and over in my head. I got drunk because I knew I wanted you, I got drunk because I knew I wanted you. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!

I turn the corner and see his shoulder, see him about to slip out wof the door. I throw my hand on his arm, "Stop!" I shout, and he turns around to face me.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" I demand, looking fiercely up into his face. "You can't just say something like that and walk out! What do you mean, you knew you wanted me? You _did_ mean to do it, didn't you!"

"No!" he counters. "Rachel, that's not what I meant at all! I shouldn't have said anything, just...god, just forget it!"

I scoff at him. "Forget? No, you are going to stand right here and tell me why the hell you knew you _wanted me_!" I yell, angrily hitting his shoulder with my fist.

"I just- I just did, ok?" he says exasperatedly. "Whatever the hell you were trying to pull that week, huh, believe me, it worked! Do you have any idea how sick that is, Rachel? Thinking about a kid like that? Of course I drank! I did everything I could to forget how I felt!"

What?! How he felt?! All my little attempts to gain his attention, cleaning his house, cooking for him, the gifts- that actually worked?! And then he decided to rape me?!

"But- I- I thought-" I stammer, frantically trying to process this new information. What the-

"What?" he interrupts. "That drowning myself in whiskey is normal for me? That I actually meant to do that to you?"

I stand here completely expressionless. "Yes...?"

He looks at me with those eyes again, the ones that plead at me from across rooms and beg me to keep our secret. Only this time, I don't know what they want. He opens his mouth to say something, and then stops. I don't think he knows either.

"Wait," I blurt, sensing he's about to leave. He looks at me with a pained look. "What...what do you mean, how you felt?"

"You know what I meant."

I can feel a lump growing in my throat. "Do you. Do you still-"

"No," he finishes. "Well, maybe. I don't know! Rachel, I have to leave now."

I grab his arm again. "No, stop," I say. "Will, how do you expect me to respond to that? You've completely ruined my life! Are you crazy?! You honestly think I'm going to forgive and forget everything to be with you?!"

"No!" he protests. "Hell no! Rachel, I didn't mean that I want us to be together, all I said was that I- you know what I said."

His hands run through his hair, he blinks rapidly and shakes his head, looks anywhere except my face. "This. This is a bad idea, being around you like this," he mumbles. He hastily gestures to the door. "I'm going to, uh."

There's a gust of cold air in my face; I hear the sound of the door shutting.

And just like that, he's gone again.

-/-

 _Drip_. _Drip_. _Drip_.

The sink isn't turned off all of the way and it's the only sound in the obstetrician's office. I sit in the reclining chair, feeling slightly vulnerable in this thin gown, and I pinch at it distastefully. My parents are seated against the wall, silent. They're probably thinking about what a failure I am. I'm thinking the same thing.

Suddenly the door swings open and the obstetrician walks in. He greets me with an optimistic smile and I instantly dislike him.

"How are you today, Ms. Berry?" he asks me, bopping around the room as he sets up things.

"Fine," I answer. He retrieves a clipboard from the counter with the leaky sink and inspects it, marking various things with a pen.

"Excited for Christmas, Rachel?" he small-talks, not bothering to look up.

"I'm Jewish," I return flatly. I see his smile quirk.

"Oh," he quips, visibly embarrassed. "Happy Hanukah, then."

With everything that's been going on lately, I nearly forgot about the holidays. What day is it, December 11th? Damn. My birthday is in seven days and this is the first I've thought of it. What a sweet sixteen, pregnant and the laughingstock of my entire school. Maybe I'll have Quinn come over and we can wallow in each other's misery.

I still can't believe my parents haven't noticed anything off from yesterday. First of all, I'm still a goddamn mess from that whole ordeal and secondly, my wrists are still all ripped up, and thirdly, Will broke the hinge on my bathroom door! Though, I suppose I am good at covering things up. This entire pregnancy I've managed to lie to them about the father. I'm still surprised they haven't opened a federal investigation to find him.

"Well Rachel, your blood work came back, and you are definitely pregnant," the doctor announces. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, I've skipped three periods while having morning sickness, I really needed blood work to tell me that. How far along am I anyway, 10 weeks? Holy shit. This is going by a little fast for my liking. How am I possibly going to be prepared in 7 months? 7 months?! Holy shit!

He is now holding a weird-looking metal thing with a condom on it. This can't be good.

"Rachel, this is a probe that we are going to insert into your uterus," he explains. "The sonogram will appear on this screen and we'll be able to find out how old your baby is and when their due date will be."

My eyes widen. Insert into my uterus?! Damn, I should have seen this coming! They wouldn't make me have this gown if they were going to do the stomach ultrasound! This man is going to look at my privates?!

He gets everything situated in front of me and I begrudgingly move my legs apart. Oh my god. This is the worst. My breath inhales sharply when I feel it down there. I squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring my twitching hand that begs me to come up and punch him in the nose.

"Alright," the doctor muses, looking back at the screen while he adjusts the probe. He smiles. "There's your baby."

My dads are now standing beside me. When the doctor points, they 'awe' at it and grab each of my hands. Oh my god. Oh my god. That's my uterus? This is so weird! I study the black and white picture, and the more I stare at it, the more tears well up in my eyes.

Daddy sees me crying. "Oh Rach, you're so happy!" he exclaims.

"No!" I cry out. "I can't see it!"

I feel myself involuntarily sobbing now. What kind of mother can't see her own baby?! What is this?!

They all laugh at me, which makes me cry even more. "Don't worry, this is a common thing," the doctor assures. "Look. Here's the head, their legs- can you see it now?"

Oh. _Oh_. Oh my god! That's my baby! Holy shit, that thing is inside of me! That's my own creation, my own child! Woah!

"Do you want to hear the heartbeat?" he asks me. I nod vigorously. He does something to the equipment; suddenly I hear it.

 _Wumph_. _Wumph_. _Wumph_.

"Oh my god!" I gasp. "It's a baby!"

They laugh at me again, but this time I don't care. Holy shit, that's my baby's heart! It's down inside of me, breathing, living-

Oh. My. God.

If I had gone through with suicide yesterday, this heartbeat would not exist. I wouldn't even have the chance to hear it. I would be dead, and this baby wouldn't even have a chance to live! That's just as worse as having an abortion! Oh my god, I almost killed this baby! And Will-

He...saved it? I guess technically he did, because had he not shown up I would've gone through with it. Well, I guess this is the one time I will ever be thankful for him. Kudos to him for doing something good for once.

I'm crying even harder from this realization now. God, I was this close to making the biggest mistake of my life! Each heartbeat that I hear just leaves a chilling reminder of what could've been. Really, I should thank him. I don't care if his feelings for me are absolutely inconvenient, the man deserves one thank you for this.

"I'd say this baby is about ten weeks along," the doctor says. "Does that sound right?"

I nod. "Then you should be due some time in early July," he continues. "It's not late enough to determine an exact due date."

I look back up at the little picture displayed on the screen. My parents don't look disappointed at me, they look proud. What a funny thing! Each time they squeeze my hand it tells me that this is all going to be fine, that I'm not in this by myself.

And you know what? Maybe having a baby isn't the end of the world after all.

-/-


	14. Chapter 14

-/-

"Please turn your textbooks to page 203."

I do as he says, not needing to look up to know that he's blatantly avoiding my desk, as he hovers around the classroom. Frankly I couldn't care less. What's the point of worrying about some unspoken tension when I'm actually happy for once?

I don't know how the ultrasound yesterday managed to completely alter my outlook on life. Isn't that strange? I've known for so long about this baby, dreading the thought completely. After actually seeing it, I'm... _glad_ , for the very first time in two months. But is it wrong to feel happy? I'm not even sixteen and I'm pregnant! And I mean, two days ago I was attempting suicide over it all. Now, I can only think of how it's such a beautiful thing to come out of something so awful. Maybe I should've been thinking this way the whole time. That might've prevented a lot of turmoil.

I snap out of my thoughts for a moment and realize that Will has been talking for a lengthy period of time. Damn, what did we just learn? I don't know how I manage to keep my grades up, I always space off like this.

He's talking about conjugating verbs, thankfully nothing new. We make eye contact for a brief moment before he looks away again. I still have an inclination to thank him. Given I'm not going to forgive him, not for anything, but if it weren't for him I wouldn't be here. And worse, I would've murdered my own child.

A worksheet is passed to me. Wha- did I seriously just space off again? This might be worse than right after the ordeal first happened. At least then I wasn't even making an effort.

"You guys have the rest of class to finish," Will says. "Work individually. This is due Monday."

The class is unusually quiet except for the sound of papers shuffling. I reach under my binder to get a pen, but something else catches my eye. The corner edge of my sonogram sticking out from beneath a few papers. Oh, I haven't looked at it in what...an hour? It's just going to distract me even more if I don't take a little peek...

Pulling it out onto the desk, I feel a smile spread across my face. There they are! It's a weird feeling to know that this little blob is inside of me at this very moment. I read an article that said it's the size of some fruit called a kumquat, and they can now bend their arms and legs. It also said I should be starting to wear maternity clothes, but for some reason my body hasn't really changed yet. Mostly I'm just bloated and my boobs hurt all the time.

Suddenly I feel a presence by my shoulder and I look up. Will is standing beside my desk, obviously seeing the sonogram. When I look up at him, he clears his throat and fidgets awkwardly.

"That's. That's the baby, huh?" he asks quietly, as to not draw anyone else's attention.

For once I don't give him a nasty look. "Yeah," I answer. "I went yesterday."

Will presses his lips together and forces a smile. Why is he acting so weird about this?

"That's...great," is all he says, barely above a whisper. "I, uh...s'great." His voice tapers off in an unnatural way.

I think he's about to squeeze my shoulder but decides against it; lets his hand fall slack to his side. He walks away somewhat hastily and sits down at his desk, right as the bell rings. Wait a minute, is he actually scared of me now? What a twist. I gather my things and wait for the room to filter out.

"Um, hey," I start, approaching his desk. Will looks mildly panicked, confirming my theory. I try to mask my satisfaction. "I never said thank you," I tell him. "I don't know what was going on in my head the other night. If you hadn't stopped me, I would be-"

"Don't."

There's a tense moment of silence.

"And this baby would be too," I eventually add. "It wouldn't have even gotten a chance to live, I would be a...murderer. And I hate the thought of that."

Will refuses to look directly at me. Discreetly, there's a pained look on his face. What is going on with him? "I just did what anybody would," he mutters after awhile.

"Well thanks anyway," I repeat. "I mean, I won't ever forgive you for what's happened- I can't. But you stopped me from making a huge mistake. The biggest one of my life, actually."

When he glances back up at me, I notice his Adam's apple bounce nervously. Damn, what is he so anxious about?

He refuses to acknowledge me as I shoot him an inquiring look. Gradually I realize that he won't respond to what I said, so finally I manage him a curt nod and I go to leave.

Right before the door closes, I hear him sigh.

-/-

"Happy birthday to you!"

I smile and lean down to blow out the candles. I wish that the baby is born perfectly fine and healthy, and that I'll still be able to become a star someday. There's a little puff of smoke, and my dads and Quinn cheer.

"Happy sweet sixteen, Rachie," my daddy grins, kissing my cheek.

I always imagined my sixteenth birthday being some big, extravagant party that had everyone at school and me, the center of attention, wearing a prom dress and arriving in a limousine. A band playing, gazebo, maybe an ice sculpture...you know, everything the Disney channel promised. I'm now finding this to be a stark contrast as I sit at my kitchen table with my parents and one friend, who squirms in her chair from pregnancy-induced back pain. No prom dress for me, just an old sweatshirt stained with morning sickness remnants.

"Leroy," Dad says, "help me bring in the presents from the living room."

Presents? Huh. I guess part of me assumed that my dads didn't think I deserved any, getting myself pregnant. In the past three weeks, they've repeatedly told me that if I'm going to keep this baby, I have to support it. And I agree, I've been job-hunting and everything, but I have this unnerving feeling that they don't trust me anymore. I just wish I could tell them the truth about what happened.

Quinn, who sits next to me, coughs and traces the edge of the table nonchalantly. "Have you talked to the father recently?" she whispers. She still has no idea who it is. I find this kind of ironic.

"Yes," I lowly reply. "Last Friday he saw the sonogram, accidentally. Then he started acting really weird. But he's kind of been like that for awhile now, I don't know what's been going on."

"Hm," she says. "Maybe the guilt is starting to get to him."

I nod. "That's what I thought initially. But remember how he told me he...has those feelings? Maybe he's guilty about that."

She looks curious. "Rachel, where exactly do you go every single day where you're around an adult man?"

My face grows hot. "Extra-curricular," I spit out. "I can't tell you what it is or you might figure it out."

Quinn looks at me suspiciously. "I thought you quit all of your extra-curricular clubs when you found out about the pregnancy."

"I did," I lie. "This one isn't part of the school."

My parents return and thus ends the conversation. Oh my god, that was close. How hasn't she figured it out by now, it's so painfully obvious! 'Where do you go everyday where you're around an adult male?' How about school!

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small, wrapped bundle. "Here," she says. "Open mine first."

I smile at her. "Hey, I told you not to get anything!" I protest playfully. I tear away the wrapping paper and feel soft cloth; upon holding it up, it unfolds to be an infant's onesie. It's white with gold print on the front that says 'Mommy's Little Star', and a big star below it. Oh my god!

Quinn laughs. "When I was shopping I saw this and I thought, now if this isn't Rachel Berry's kid, I don't know what is!"

We all laugh at this. "This is so cute, Quinn!" I exclaim. "Thank you!"

Dad smiles pleasantly at her. "So how has everything been with you, Ms. Fabray? Do you know what you're having?" he asks.

"A girl," she answers. "I'm due in the last week of May. Everything is going along fine, but we still have to find a family for her."

Daddy nods and looks over at Dad knowingly. "That can be tough," he muses. "Well, choosing one anyway. There are so many families on the waiting list that have been waiting for who knows how long. Of course I know this because Hiram and I went through the very same process."

Dad shakes his head. "The world wasn't so accepting of untraditional families seventeen, eighteen years ago. Still isn't today. That's why we ultimately decided on surrogation. Sixteen years later, here sits Rachel!" He gestures to me, and my mouth twitches irritably.

The topic of how, exactly, I was brought into this world is a sore subject for me. I guess I haven't really thought about it much today with the baby and all, but every single year on my birthday for as long as I can remember I've pondered the same thing. I've thought to myself, on this date, I was delivered out of the body of some woman that I will never meet. I lived in her womb for nine months, I heard her voice during my very first moments in life, and I will never remember her. I don't even know my own mother's name.

Oh, the irony. I'm about to go through the very same process with my own child, but unlike basically every other pregnant woman ever, I won't have a mother figure to help or guide me. What I find even more amusing is that somewhere in the world, a relatively young woman is about to become a grandmother and she doesn't even know it.

Sometimes I question my parents' reasoning when they thought it was okay to raise any child, let alone a girl, without some sort of mother figure. Yeah, they wanted a kid, I get it. Would it be too much to let me visit my own mother every once in a while? To maybe actually know who she is?

A present is passed to me, so I push these thoughts to the back of my mind like I have on every birthday. We go back to laughing, talking, and I open each of the presents graciously. I find that about four gifts are things that I would want just for me, regardless of the baby. The rest are maternity-related. I don't mind any of this though; seeing the bibs and tiny booties ignite a thrill in my center- a good kind.

"Now, you're absolutely sure you're keeping the baby?" Dad laughs, looking around at everything.

"Uh, yeah," I chuckle. "Pretty sure."

Really, if I forget about all of the fears and sacrifices, I'm excited to be a mom. The idea of having my own person that will love me no matter what is just endearing. Granted, it's Will's child, and that will undoubtedly cause problems. What if I only see him when I look into my baby's face?

I finger the edge of a knitted blanket, one that my Nana made and sent. Well, I'll just have to love them anyway. This is my child. Not his.

My Nana didn't exactly embrace the news but nevertheless she still loves me, and she will the baby. She's always been such a strong, loving mother and grandmother. I want to be a mother like that to my baby, everything that my own mom wasn't for me. Who needs her, anyway? I tell myself. I can do this just fine without a mom.

Yet as I sit here, surrounded by baby things and my only friend who also happens to be pregnant, I can't help but wonder what she'd think if she could see me now.

-/-


	15. Chapter 15

-/-

Snowflakes wander peacefully to the ground outside my window, the whiteness making my room especially bright, and Quinn sits cross-legged on my bed as I look sideways into my closet door mirror. My sweater is held up above my torso, exposing my bare stomach, and she looks at me through the reflection and nods her head.

"Yup," she says. "You're showing."

"Are you sure?" I question. "Maybe I'm at the stage where it just looks like I had a big lunch."

Quinn shakes her head. "No, you've been in that stage for the past two weeks. Now you can tell."

I sigh. "Well, I guess I held off later than expected."

The scene in my bedroom has become a typical one since befriending Quinn. What's unusual is a day where she doesn't come over to my house, which is rare. Before this year, the last time I had someone over was in the sixth grade. I think it's funny that just as I'm getting a regular teenaged social life, everything else regular about me is going the opposite direction. But I like this. I've never had a best friend.

One of the reasons I think Quinn likes being over here is because she doesn't want to burden Mercedes' family. That's who she's staying with, and I still am a bit in the dark about how that whole occurrence went down. I sense she doesn't like discussing it, so I don't pry. I do have a great deal of respect for Mercedes now, though. Even if she is my competition for solos. But aside from Quinn's living conditions, I am pretty much aware about every other thing that happens in her day-to-day life, and she, mine. I've never been so open to someone before, not even my family, and I love it. Just talking, no judgement.

"Hi baby," I whisper, tracing the soft skin with one chipped, red fingernail. Then I drop my sweater so it again rests at my hips, and plop down on the bed next to Quinn.

"Do you think it'll be hard for you?" I ask her. "Giving up your baby?"

She shrugs. "Well, yeah. But in the end I know that she's going to a better place, and I think I can cope with that."

"I couldn't do it," I admit, sinking against a pillow. "I get too attached to things. Which, I guess I get that from my dads- they held on to every piece of clothing I wore until I was eight."

She looks thoughtful. "I suppose I've never been like that. I mean, of course it's going to be different with her, though. I probably don't even have a clue."

Neither of us say anything for awhile, just completely comfortable in the silence. "I always wondered what my mother felt," I say eventually. "Giving me away, I mean."

"Oh," she exhales. "I'm sure it was painful for her. Just because she gave you up doesn't mean she doesn't love you. And I guess that's a biased opinion, but," she trails off.

I watch the falling snow outside. If I focus on a select few, they seem to move gracefully in slow motion, each with a set destination. Then I focus on a single one, which weaves lazily between the others before it smacks into the glass and promptly melts. The sight is soothing.

"I wish I could keep her," she then says. "I would, if it weren't for my situation with money and family and everything."

"God Quinn, I don't even know how I'll afford to keep mine!" I exclaim. "Sure, my parents will be helping, but babies are expensive. Food, clothes, baby furniture, doctor's appointments- I need to get a job, fast."

"I thought I saw that the diner on the square is hiring. Maybe you could apply there," she suggests.

"I will."

"Hey, but do you know another way to get money for your baby?" she suddenly asks.

"What?"

She looks at me bluntly. "Getting the bastard who caused this whole mess to pay child support."

This makes me chuckle. "Don't worry, he's willing." Then a thought occurs in my mind and I sit up. "Wait, you know how I just said my dads used to keep all of my old clothes?"

"Yeah," she replies. After a moment I see a flicker of recognition go across her face. "Oh, yeah!"

"Hey, my parents' little quirks are finally coming into hand!" I laugh. "Let's go look, they have a ton of totes in the basement."

She raises an eyebrow. "Wait, what if the baby's a boy? It's all girl clothes, isn't it?"

"Maybe there are some neutral things," I say. "If not...pink can come back into style for boys!"

As we leave my room and head downstairs, I hear a giggle behind me. "Okay, but if you happen to find some frilly little dress, I will _not_ partake in turning your baby into a transvestite!" she pokes.

Opening the door to the basement, I flip the light switch on and bounce down the steps. It's furnished down here, like another little living room, but like any basement it has a room for all of our junk. I usher Quinn into it and my eyes scan the room for a tote that says something about my clothes.

"Here's something," I say, lifting one that reads 'Rachel 0-8 mo Clothes'. Upon prying the lid off, I find that Quinn is right. A good majority of this is pink, and frilly.

"Hm," she says. "Maybe there are more here somewhere."

While she looks around, I dig through the clothes, fishing out the occasional white onesie. "Awe," I murmur, holding up a tiny pair of overalls. "This could be gender neutral, right?"

Quinn does not respond. I'm suddenly aware that the noise of her moving totes has stopped, and I turn my head around. She holds an unmarked cardboard box, and I can't see what's inside.

"Rachel, this is from when you were born," she says sullenly. "There might be something about your mom in here."

My eyes widen. "Let me see!"

She sits on the ground next to me, the box in her lap. There's a sonogram on the top, dated October 1st, 1993. Woah. That's the exact day I was raped.

"Does it say-" I shake my head before she can finish. All it has is the date, no patient name or anything.

"You don't see a birth certificate, do you?" she asks.

"It wouldn't be in here," I reply. "My dads keep all of our legal documents and important information locked in a safe somewhere."

She pulls out a silver handheld tape recorder and examines it. "Oh, this must have your heartbeat on it," she says. "I had mine on a tape recorder just like this." She hands it to me and I look for a play button, pressing it.

Then it starts playing and I immediately drop it.

"Rachel, this is your mother."

-/-

"Rachel!" I hear Dad call from upstairs, the echo of the door shutting. "Rach, are you home?"

Silently I stand up, stopping the tape, and I make my way to the stairs. "Rachel-" Quinn starts, but I shoot her a fierce look and she stops.

"Rachel!" I hear him call again. I push open the basement door to find my parents standing in the kitchen, their briefcases set on the ground and their coats strewn across chairs. They smile at me.

"Hi sweetie, how was your-" Click.

"Rachel, this is your mother."

Click. I watch their faces drop and the color slowly drain from their cheeks. "Where did you find that?" Daddy asks me quietly.

I gulp. "I was looking for my old baby clothes. So we could use some for the baby and save money and stuff. Then I found the box."

Dad looks stern. "Rachel, it's not your place to be going through those things! You know you're not supposed to have any contact with your birth mother until you turn eighteen!"

"But why?" I cry out. "What's the point? So I can spend my entire childhood wondering where the hell I come from?! Wondering why everybody else has a mom except for me?!"

"To protect you!" Daddy argues. "We didn't want to make things complicated for you. We thought if Shelby spent time with you, she'd try and get custody. No court in the country would let two gay men win, you know that!"

My breath catches in my throat. "Shelby?"

They're both silent. "That's my mom's name...Shelby?" I repeat.

My dad lets out a deep sigh, as if he's been holding his breath my entire life, hoping I wouldn't find this out. "Shelby Corcoran."

I feel my jaw drop.

"Shelby Corcoran?!" comes from behind me. Quinn now stands there in the threshold of the basement.

"What?"

Quinn and I exchange a glance. "We know who she is," she explains. "She directs the best show choir in the nation, Vocal Adrenaline, in Akron. We're kind of in a rivalry."

" _That's_ my mom?" I interrupt, flustered.

"Ehhh...it would seem so," Dad relents. "We haven't spoken since you were born, and she told us she was moving to New York with the money we paid her. But she was from Akron."

"Oh my god," I realize. "Quinn, she's going to be at the Winter Showcase on Wednesday!"

"Mr. Schue invited all of the surrounding choir directors," she laments, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "I wonder if she knows you'll be in it."

This is insane. I know who my mom is! My _mom_! And she only lives two and a half hours away! My entire life, I've always imagined my mother living halfway across the world, having some extravagant lifestyle, with some glamorous name like Charlotte or Victoria. But she lives in Ohio, directs a show choir for a living, and her name is Shelby. And now the one person I've wanted to see my entire life will meet me in two days. Two days! How can I possibly function with this information?!

How is this going to happen? Will we just instantly have that mother-daughter bond, and run slow motion into each other's arms? Will she want me to spend time with her, meet the family I never knew? Holy shit! I haven't even thought about that! I have a whole family I've never met, I might even have siblings! Will they like me? Will they want to know me? And what do I even call her? Just Shelby or Mom? How often will I visit her? Where will we go? Oh my god! What the hell is she going to think about the pregnancy?! This woman is about to become a grandmother, and I'm causing it!

"Rachel, I don't know if it's such a good idea to meet her yet," Daddy says. "I don't know how she might react to you."

I gape at him. "I _have_ to meet her!" I protest. "This is like fate, isn't it? Of course she just so happens to come to the showcase where I'm singing, it's the foundation for the greatest reuniting story of all time!"

My parents look at each other, trying to decide what to say next. "This is something I've dreamed about my entire life," I continue. "This _has_ to happen."

I don't bother to hear what they're going to say. I clutch the tape in my hand and head back downstairs into the basement, Quinn trailing behind.

"Are you going to listen to the rest of it?" she asks me. I nod in reply and press play.

"Rachel, this is your mother. Happy eighteenth birthday, baby. I hope that you're having a wonderful day and that everything leading up to today has been extraordinary. I'm sorry I couldn't be around for it, I really wish I could. And I hope you know that giving you away doesn't mean I don't love you. I love you so much and I will for the rest of my life. You will always be my shining star! I hope that you decide to meet me in the near future, I know that I want to meet you. Love, your mom, Shelby Corcoran."

The tape buzzes to a stop and I press it off, but not before I let a single tear splash against the button.

-/-


	16. Chapter 16

-/-

The applause fades and the house lights come up as our final number ends. All of us on stage are frozen in place for the customary five seconds, and it's now that I'm taking the time to scan the crowd. I know that Quinn, who is posed relatively near me, is doing the same.

I don't see her; this sends a pang of doubt deep in my chest. What if she didn't come? She must be a very busy woman, it would make sense to skip some showcase of a rival choir two and a half hours away. In fact, why would she even bother to come anyway?

Quinn and I cycled through dozens of newspaper articles online about Vocal Adrenaline until we could find a close-up picture of her face. And when we did, it was like looking into a mirror. This woman looks exactly like me. I have no doubt in my mind that she is the same Shelby Corcoran who was hired as a surrogate sixteen years ago in Lima, Ohio.

Just like that, the five seconds are over and the club disperses. People in the audience are starting to get up from their seats and move into the aisle ways. I see some of my fellow members hop off the front of the stage and start to co-mingle, and Will is talking to some people hovering in the front row. I remain on stage and Quinn approaches me.

"Do you see her?" she asks tentatively. I grimly shake my head 'no', but she gives me an optimistic smile.

"Well, let's go stand over by the exit," she suggests. "We're bound to run into her there."

So we head over to the doors and wait. The way we stand here eerily reminds me of a couple of hookers working a corner, for some reason it feels...dirty. But there's nothing sinister about this, it's actually the opposite, right? Why am I getting a bad feeling?

After a few minutes, the majority of the attendance has filtered through, but no sign of Shelby. Each person that passes only lowers the feeling in my gut.

"Hey Quinn," Mercedes calls, halfway down the aisle. "My folks are here- if you want a ride home, you gotta get it now."

She turns to me first with a conflicted expression, but I dismiss her with a nod. "It's fine," I tell her. "Go on."

Quinn looks reluctant but she goes, shooting me a sympathetic smile. I sigh. This was a bad idea, did I really think I was just going to run into my long-lost mother at a choir concert?

The sound of heels clacking on the marble floor averts my attention to the hallway. The sound of the hand dryer echoes out of the women's bathroom, and then the clacking resumes.

The first thing I see is a toss of long, dark hair- the same color as mine. And all at once I see the rest of the woman; her face, her body, her clothes, and instantaneously I realize who, exactly, this person is. My heart beat increases rapidly. Shelby!

Oh my god! I can feel a sudden cold sweat break out on my forehead, oh my god! What do I do, what do I do?!

Shelby starts walking in the opposite direction and I panic, I suddenly hear myself blurt, "Wait!"

This stops her. I waste no time in abandoning my post at the auditorium doors, swiftly yet carefully making my way towards her, her- my own mother.

"Ms. Corcoran?" my voice trembles. "I'm...Rachel Berry."

She looks at me with a very strange expression.

"I'm your daughter."

-/-

"Did you ever regret it?"

The auditorium is deserted except for Shelby and I. She sits a few rows away from me, and I'm getting the feeling that this is as close as she wants to be to me.

"Yes. Then no," she answers stiffly. "Then so much."

I don't say anything to this.

"This isn't the first time I've seen you, you know," she continues. "I saw you at Sectionals. You were extraordinary. You were... _me_."

"Why didn't you say anything?" I ask.

"I'm under contract," she replies. "According to the law, this, right now, is technically unlawful to the agreement."

God, over the years I could've made a list miles long of questions to ask her. But now, strangely, my mind is blank. "Do I have any other family?" I remember to mention.

Shelby gives a short laugh. "I was an only child to a single mother, never knew my dad, and she died in '98. Never had grandparents either. So no."

"You never had a family of your own?"

She laughs again, somewhat sarcastically. "More babies? After you? No, nope. You're all the family I've got, kid. Well, for however many months you have left anyway."

There's a brief silence.

"How do you that I'm pregnant?" I ask quietly.

"The way you carry yourself," Shelby says. "It's how I was with you. And skin-tight dresses don't exactly disguise baby bumps, by the way."

A pause. "Are you disappointed in me?"

She sighs. "Everyone makes mistakes, Rachel. Even the perfectionists. However, I don't appreciate you making me a grandmother at thirty-five."

Neither of us say anything for what seems like a long time. I wish that this really was the result of me making a mistake, instead of what actually went down. But I can't tell her otherwise.

"So what happens now?" I ask softly. "Will I start visiting you, or vise-versa? Do you want to talk to my dads? Would you want to be around the baby?"

Something in this string of questions triggers something; she blinks hard and holds her hands up to her face. "Oh, I shouldn't have done this," she falters. "This is all wrong. This was supposed to feel good."

My heart sinks. "Maybe we can just go out to dinner or something?" I add desperately. "Just to get over the initial shock?"

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I have to go."

It's all I can do to not let out this heartbroken squeak of a sound that pushes at the back of my throat. Embarrassing, hot tears threaten to flood over my bottom eyelids as I watch her hustle out of the auditorium. This can't be happening! She's my mom, she can't do this to me! What happened to what she said on the tape?! 'I'll love you for the rest of my life'?! Bull-fucking-shit!

I hear myself crying now. I yank my bag up from the ground and sprint down the steps- I have to get out of here! When I go through the door it slams behind me, giving me little satisfaction. My sobbing becomes increasingly more rapid with each stride I take down the hall, finally I burst through the main doors and I collapse there on the front steps. The pavement is icy and freezing but I don't care. What the hell did I do wrong?!

I'm pretty certain I sound like a wailing baby right now. I can't stop. This is the most devastating thing that has ever happened to me- and that's including the past three months! What kind of daughter is so appalling to her own mom that she can't even stand being around her?! I can't believe I went into this thinking that Shelby would just start rejoicing and saying how much she missed me! And to think- I've been dreaming of this moment for my entire life! My heart has never felt so broken than it does right now, and I've dealt with a lot of traumatizing shit lately! God, how can this be happening to me?!

"Rachel?"

My ears perk up at the sound of his voice, I raise my head. What the hell is Will still doing here? I see him faintly through the heavily falling snow before me, walking towards me. Great, now I have to explain this whole mess to the one person I'd never want to have a conversation with in a million years.

As he nears me I can detect the distinct look of confusion on his face. "Hey, what happened?" he asks, lowering himself to sit on the steps beside me. I bury my face back into my knees.

"Go," I hiccup, "away."

I hear his exhalation yet he doesn't do as I say. "Did I do something?" he asks. "I swear, I'm trying to-"

"N-o," I cut off. My breathing is still hitched and I'm debating whether this would technically be classified as hyperventilating. "Not...this time."

I look up from my lap again and he's staring at me. I hate this. I hate everything.

"Shel...Shelby Corcoran s'my m-mom," I choke out. "I t-tried to talk t'her but she doesn't...she doesn't..."

My weeping increases and my head bows again. I can't see the reaction on his face, but I bet that it's bewildered. He knows her, he's known her for longer than I have. Has he ever seen my face in hers? Has he ever suspected anything?Suddenly, I feel his hand on my back, not moving but only resting there. I want to jerk away, I want to tell him not to touch me, but I simply lack the energy to.

"I'm so sorry," is all he whispers. For some reason this makes me cry even harder.

"I just," I sob, looking back up at him through blurred vision, "I don't...what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, Rach," he murmurs. Everything feels so numb. Subconsciously, I'm vaguely aware of my head being pressed against his chest. I'm too exhausted to care.

Something feels fuzzy in my brain. My crying is relentless and it feels like the sobs are just effortlessly rolling out of my throat. My chest aches. The snowy wind is whipping against my bare skin yet I cannot feel it. Something about my body gives me the sensation that I'm in a hazy dream. I can't focus to think more than a fleeting second. Am I dying?

A calloused hand brushes my hair away from my face. Something in my memory tells me that I hate that hand, but I can't remember why.

"Why aren't I good enough for her?" my voice echoes, incoherently and somewhere far away. I think he responds to this but I can't hear anything except the frequency playing in my head. It feels like a thousand years have passed before I see 'Rachel' form on his lips.

When he says my name, everything suddenly comes into focus. Everything is amplified.

The rough pavement is scraping against my bare legs, and they lie askew below me. I'm suddenly aware of Will's arms holding me up; my head leans against him and I can hear his shaky breathing deep within his chest. The sting of the cold is piercing my skin, all over. I can hear my own meek crying, gentled now.

I feel all of this, yet I do not look to see. My eyes, as well as the rest of my body, are frozen in place- I can't move. Will is looking down at me, something transfixed in his eyes. They glow a pale green.

"Rachel," he says again. I'm unresponsive. I can't tell if there are tears on his cheeks or snowflakes, or both. His jaw looks softened and his nose looks bigger than usual. There's a crease in his forehead, something different about his chin, and his skin is dry from the frigid air. I analyze every inch of his face simply because I have nothing else to do, and I'm too tired to pull my eyes away. I don't remember if I'm still crying or not.

A careful thumb grazes my sticky face, the rest of the hand resting below my ear. It's warm against the coldness of the snow. Something stirs in my ribs, and then my eyes widen.

I am abruptly aware of how close he is to me.

He's so close that I can feel his breath on my face, and we remain this way, rigid. A thick tension hangs in the air. This is wrong. This can't happen. This is so, so wrong.

I can't tell if I'm breathing. I feel my mind slipping away from me as he raises my chin with two trembling fingers. The gap between us shrinks, my vision goes blank, and all I can distinguish is the lonesome sound of an old Christmas song we sang tonight playing in my head, gently.

-/-


	17. Chapter 17

-/-

When he kisses me, I don't pull away.

Somewhere in the back of my mind there's a slideshow playing; it's of every instant leading up to this moment where I've gotten this feeling, the one I get now. His soft eyes that day in Spanish, the dream, the afternoon in the vinyl store, the night I almost killed myself...

The intensity of it all makes me forget that I've stopped breathing and suddenly I have to, I pull away with a start.

"I can't breathe!" I gasp.

We remain flushed against each other, my forehead leant against his jaw, and him still holding me upright and steady. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad. I have a desire to lash out and hit him, hard. Still, my energy is depleted entirely which also means that I don't have any left to care, either.

"What happened?" is all I muster, dumbly and like a child.

Will looks troubled, of a sort. "You worked yourself up," he tells me softly. "So much I think you blacked out for a second. Then we kissed and you almost did it again."

He says those words out loud and I stiffen. He feels me do it too, because I feel his mouth open to say something, and then shut.

"I'm sorry, Rach," he then says quietly. "This shouldn't have- I shouldn't-"

"Stop," I cut off, barely above a whisper. "Just hold me for a second."

He doesn't reply to this but the grip around me tightens. What the hell is this? What the hell am I doing? This isn't right. This is not right.

I have an overwhelming urge to cry, but nothing comes out. Is it possible to cry away all of the tears in your body? I must've done it. I know this is wrong, terribly wrong, but his warm arms are such a comfort right now. The memory of Shelby is still raw in my mind, and right now that's more afflicting than the fact that I'm lying in my rapist's arms.

The snow falling around us has leveled off into a light dusting and covers my skin like dandruff. My hair is starting to feel wet from it, curled on my bare shoulders. I don't have to look up to know that some snowflakes have clung to Will's long eyelashes. All my life, I've loved snow. Now, tonight, I'm not so sure if I do anymore.

"What does this mean?" I suddenly ask him. Because I don't know. I don't think he knows either.

"What?"

"That we kissed."

Our position here on the steps doesn't flinch, but I can tell that his eyes search rapidly across the horizon, like they always do when he has to think about something. After a moment, I hear him swallow hard.

"If you want, nothing," he finally answers, a new deepness in his voice. "I already told you how I feel."

The memory of him standing in my front door is brought to mind when he says this. On that night he told me he didn't want to be with me, but the way he's talking now tells me otherwise. Does he actually want to be in a relationship? Do I?

Suddenly I feel very unsure of myself, and my surroundings have an uncomfortable pressure. Suddenly I remember why, exactly, this is all wrong.

"Will," my voice starts with a tremor, "I'm...I'm not going to say that I don't have- I don't feel anything for you. Because that would be a lie."

Saying that gives me a strange feeling. I've never said it out loud before. Only now it feels incredibly hard to speak.

"But I can't forget what you did to me," I say, tears prickling at my eyes. I guess I didn't run out after all. "You...I...I just remember running out of the choir room. The school was all dark and empty. I couldn't remember how to get out."

I never told anyone, let alone him, this part of the story before. At this moment, I bet he feels like shit.

"And my clothes were all ruined because you ripped them off of me," I continue, my voice shaking again. "I had to hold up my underwear to stop the blood from dripping down my legs."

This sentence ends in a squeak and I'm really crying now. "But it did anyway."

"Rachel-"

"Finally I came out," I interrupt, sobbing. "Right out of these doors. And I tried to keep running, b-but everything, just... _hurt_. It felt like every bone in my body had been smashed to pieces. Then I- I got to my car. I was just...hysterical. I don't even remember how I drove home."

I look up at him, and there are silent tears on his face.

"That was...that was what _you_ did," I say. "Will, it doesn't matter how many times you save me. It doesn't change what you did. We both need to realize that."

His embrace has already slackened when I pull myself out of it. I grab my discarded things and stumble on weakened legs back into the snow, leaving him behind on the steps.

When I pull out of the parking lot, he's still sitting there.

-/-

"I'm sorry I'm dragging you over here on Christmas Eve," I tell Quinn, shutting the door to my bedroom.

She sits on the edge of my bed and waves her hand. "Oh please," she says dismissively. "This means about five less of Mercedes' relatives will ask her what a pregnant white girl is doing at their holiday party. And you sound pretty serious."

"It is," I mutter.

Her eyes are round. "Did you meet Shelby? What did she say?"

"That she refuses to have anything to do with me."

Quinn's face drops. "Oh Rachel," she sympathizes. "Rachel, I'm so sorry."

She gets up to give me a hug, which I politely cut short. "Hey, it's fine," I tell her. "I talked to my dads about it for approximately three hours last night, and I'm feeling a lot better."

She frowns. "God, that still must feel awful. She's your mom!"

I press my mouth into a thin line and nod. "Yeah. It pretty much sucks."

She sits again. "Well I'm getting a feeling that you don't really want to elaborate on your conversation with her. Is something else going on?"

I'm halfway through eloquently deciding my next words when my mouth blurts, "He kissed me. The father."

Quinn's expression automatically turns to stone. "Oh no," she says flippantly, standing up on her feet. "No, no, no. Rachel Berry, are you stupid? Have you lost your mind? Let me refresh your memory on all of the awful shit this man has-"

"Wait," I interrupt. "I never said that we got together or anything!"

"Then what the hell happened?!" Quinn demands.

"I was really distraught about what happened with Shelby," I explain. "I ran out of the school all upset, so I just sat down on the steps and cried. He found me and I told him what had happened, and then he comforted me."

"By kissing you?" Quinn raises an eyebrow.

"No," I say. "I was hyperventilating. He just held me until I could calm down. Then we kissed."

She crosses her arms. "And who initiated said kiss?"

"I don't remember," I answer. "I had just came to."

"Came to?"

"I was so upset that I passed out for a second," I explain. She shoots me a questionable look. "It turned out fine, Quinn. I told him that even though I have feelings for him, I can't forget what he did to me. Then I left."

"Woah, woah, woah," she exclaims. "Let's back up here. You have feelings for him?! Rachel!"

I sink back onto my bed with a defeated groan and pull a pink throw pillow over my face. "I don't want to!" I protest, muffled by the pillow. "I was head-over-heels in love with him before this all happened! Those feelings just don't disappear!"

"They do when the person brutally rapes you," she retorts. "At least for normal people, anyway."

"Look, I have no power over this," I plead. "It's not like I'm going to act on it. I'm not that stupid."

Quinn plops down next to me on the bed and we lie here in a comfortable silence for awhile. Glancing over, her baby bump is definitely obvious now. She's four months along, and she'll give birth to her baby girl before school lets out. I can't even imagine how she's going to give her away, I know I couldn't do that. Especially after last night.

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?"

"What was the father doing outside of our school?"

Aw, fuck.

My face is starting to burn. "Um...he, uh...he wanted to meet me after the concert. To talk about money for the baby."

"I thought you didn't want him to help with the baby at all," she queries. "Doesn't child support count?"

"Uh, yeah," I cover. "I wanted him to come so I could, y'know, tell it to him straight. Get up all in his face and stuff."

"Well, you did one of those things."

She sighs. "Rachel, the thing I just don't understand is where the hell you go everyday to be around the bastard. I mean, it's not like Schue or Coach Tanaka or Principal Figgins did it."

Shit, Quinn! Stop!

"Extra-curricular," I spit out. "Like I told you.

"Hm. Is that why you won't turn him in, because you love him?"

"Not really," I answer truthfully. "Other aspects are involved, I can't explain it without telling you who it is."

"God Rachel, you make things so complicated for yourself," she muses, propping up on one elbow. "It's like your life is a soap opera with all this drama going on. I wouldn't be surprised if Joey from 'Friends' was beating down your door wanting to be on your show."

We both laugh when she says this. "Did I ever tell you that my parents named me after Rachel on 'Friends'?" I giggle. "Because that actually happened."

She laughs again. "Hey, speaking of that, have you picked any names yet?"

"No, I can't think of any," I reply. "But I know I want something really meaningful. I always had this idea when I was younger that I'd name my children after names in song titles, so they'd all have their own song. Do you think that's dumb?"

"No," she says. "That's actually super cute. But I wouldn't know anything off the top of my head."

I shrug. "Well, I have seven months to figure it out."

I wonder if I'm making Quinn uncomfortable by talking about baby names, given that she won't be able to name her baby. This is something I always have to be wary of in conversations concerning my baby and after they're born.

"Hey, just don't name your baby Old MacDonald and we'll be good."

-/-


	18. Chapter 18

-/-

So this is the new decade.

If you had asked a six year-old Rachel Berry during Y2K where she saw herself in ten years, I can guarantee that sixteen and pregnant would not be something to cross her little mind. Then again, I also thought we'd be living in some futuristic, science-fiction dystopia with robots and time machines by 2010. Guess I'm lousy at predicting the future.

"You girls remember to wipe down the counters! The key's on the hook when you're done."

I hear the jingling sound of the front door shutting and so vanishes the loud presence of my new boss, Paula Davis. Quinn was right, 'that little diner on the square' was hiring, and I started work the day after Christmas. Paula's is a place that attracts the ever-so lovely crowds of the following: very scary middle-aged men that have most likely been in prison for abusing small children or other ungodly acts, low-income workers from the meat processing plant that opt to wear their hog-feces covered galoshes into the diner, and the specific type of elderly that not only inform you of how your generation is horrible, but also refuse to tip. These three crowds, along with the occasional redneck family, are who I spend my time with from 4 to 8 pm, five days a week. At least the creeps tip well after they smirk at me.

The place is so small that only one other girl works the same shift as me. Kayleigh Henderson. This girl is probably the sole reason why the elderly crowd looks down on my generation. See, Kayleigh is in the particular clique at my school where they cake on trashy looking makeup, pierce their bodies numb, and say 'rawr' is their favorite word. She sits in the kitchen for most of the shift, her high-top sneakers propped up on the deep fryer as she texts a seemingly endless amount of fellow 'emos'. Even with my extensive vocabulary, I have yet to comprehend what that word means. Does Paula care one bit about her slacking? Nope, she's too busy smoking cigarettes and watching reality TV in the back room. Which leaves the rest up to me.

I wet a washrag in the sink; out of the corner of my eye, I see Kayleigh stand up and hoist her Hello Kitty drawstring over her shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" I snap, beyond irritated once again. "I'm not cleaning up by myself again."

"Sorry, last time," she fibs, heading out front. "Gotta be on MySpace by 8:15."

"But-"

"Thanks for covering me, you're totes the se-eeex!" Her voice echoes in the emptiness of the place, followed by a frustrated moan that is contributed by me.

Kayleigh Henderson makes me understand why people don't want to raise the minimum wage.

Begrudgingly, I turn my attention toward the chores that are made to be done. If I work fast I can be out of here before 8:30. I wish I never took my life without responsibilities for granted, I'm constantly thinking now. But maybe these current struggles will help propel my future autobiography to the best-selling list someday. That is, _if_ I have an autobiography.

The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Before I fell pregnant, I knew with 100% certainty that I was destined to be a star. The chances were slim then, but now they're practically nonexistent. How am I supposed to move to New York with a toddler? How am I supposed to juggle college with single-handedly raising a child? How am I suppose to get any kind of job?

These are the things Quinn took into consideration when she decided on adoption. But I can't do that! I could never give away my own child!

The floor and counters are done, so I move on to the few dirty dishes remaining. Well, I still have two years to figure this out. Maybe I can convince my dads to move to New York with me, and the baby could live with them for a little while. Yeah, that sounds reasonable. For me anyway.

When the diner is all clean, I let myself out and I lock up. School starts back up again tomorrow. I haven't seen Will since we kissed and frankly, I have no idea how we're both supposed to move forward. All I can hope is that he keeps backing off like he has been, then it will be fine. Maybe if I ignore him for awhile these stupid feelings will just go away.

Man, my life _is_ a soap opera.

-/-

"Mr. Schue, are you okay?"

My conversation about the price of diapers with Quinn is cut short when Kurt says this. I look over and see Will sitting at the piano, his elbow propped up against the lid, holding his head and staring absently at nothing in particular. When Kurt calls him out, he snaps out of it and looks up.

"You've been sitting there for eleven minutes," he continues pointedly. "Are you going to give us an assignment or what?"

Will blinks, pulling himself into focus. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Sorry guys, just spaced off a little," he mumbles.

Great.

He rises from the piano bench and pulls the lid off of a blue Expo marker, sloppily displaying the word 'hello' across the board. Then he faces us.

"What do you guys say when you answer the phone?" he asks.

"What up?"

"Who dis be?"

"No, she's dead, this is her son."

I reach across the aisle and touch Kurt's shoulder sympathetically when he replies.

"Uh, okay then," Will quietly responds. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase. You were amazing at Regionals, but we're gonna be going up against some really tough competition at Sectionals. It's time for some reinvention, some new New Directions. We need a new," he gestures to the board, "hello."

The club murmurs amongst itself. "So, we do a song that's about saying hello?" asks Finn.

He points at him. "Exactly. It has to have 'hello' in the title."

More murmuring. "Mr. Schue, I don't know of any songs like that," Artie counters.

"Yeah, at least popular ones," adds Mike.

The chatter increases until Will dismisses it with "Hey! Settle down!" It ceases. "Now, you guys might have to do a little research for this assignment, but I can assure you that there are plenty of iconic songs out there. In fact, I got the idea itself from Lionel Richie's _Hello_."

I see Mercedes smile. "Hey, I know that song. Mr. Schue, you should do it for us!"

Everyone agrees, but for some reason he looks uncomfortable. His eyes dart over to me for a second- well, shit. I'm somehow involved with this now, aren't I?

"Oh, I-"

"Mr. Schue, when's the last time you sang for us anyway?" Finn cuts off. "Like, aren't we supposed to be learning this sorta stuff from you?"

Will looks tense. "Um, fine. Guess I could sing this for you guys."

He nods at Brad, who just came in. He goes to the piano and plunks out a chord progression, and Will steps back and sings.

 _I've been alone with you inside my mind_

 _And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times_

 _I sometimes see you pass outside my door_

 _Hello, is it me you're looking for?_

The tone of his voice while he sings reminds me of our duet, which now seems like an eternity ago. Maybe because that was also a Lionel Richie song, or maybe because I subconsciously compare everything he does now with what he did that week. I don't know, but it's unnerving.

 _I can see it in your eyes_

 _I can see it in your smile_

 _You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide_

Something's up. His gaze has gradually shifted from the back wall to the area surrounding me on the far right side of the room. I swear to god, if he starts looking at me-

 _Cause you know just what to say_

 _And you know just what to do_

 _And I want to tell you so much, I love you_

Aaaand, there it is. I immediately toss my head and look the opposite way, refusing to make eye contact. Damnit, Will! Get over yourself! I told you exactly why this can't happen!

 _I long to see the sunlight in your hair_

 _And tell you time and time again how much I care_

 _Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow_

 _Hello, I've just got to let you know_

When I turn my head back, he's still looking at me. So what is this, is he trying to win me over now? Who the hell does he think he is?

 _Cause I wonder where you are_

 _And I wonder what you do_

 _Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you?_

 _Tell me how to win your heart_

 _For I haven't got a clue_

 _But let me start by saying I love you_

I can tell he's trying to downplay it, but whenever he looks somewhere else it just comes back to me. I try to shoot him a look that says, 'Stop it, you're being irrational, I'm not doing this,' but it isn't working.

 _Hello, is it me you're looking for?_

 _Cause I wonder where you are_

 _And I wonder what you do_

 _Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you?_

 _Tell me how to win your heart_

 _For I haven't got a clue_

 _But let me start by saying I love you_

The class applauds. I don't. Will manages a smile, and raps the Expo marker against his thigh in an anxious fashion. "Okay, okay," he says. "Now, I want you guys to use the rest of the time to work on your own 'hello's. There are some totes of sheet music in the closet, it's all alphabetized so try looking at the 'h's. And if some of you want, you can go down to the computer lab as well."

The club disperses. "That was kind of weird," Quinn muses. "Mr. Schue was looking at me a lot while he was singing. Wonder what that's all about."

"I don't know."

I'm about to launch into an idea involving the triple Oscar-winning Barbra Streisand classic, _Hello, Dolly_ , when I see Finn hesitantly approach us. Quinn looks uneasy.

"Uh, hey Rach. Can I talk to you for a second?" he asks me.

I nod dumbly. I don't have to look over to see that Quinn is utterly confused.

We distance ourselves from the risers and walk over by the piano. He speaks in a soft manner.

"So, uh...how's life been for you lately?" he awkwardly asks.

"Not the best," I answer stiffly. He knows fully well how my life has been lately.

"Oh," he stammers. "Well, uh. See, I'm a little confused 'cuz it seemed like you were all over me a couple months ago, and now I'm kinda getting the feeling that you just wanna...punch me all the time."

Oh. "Well Finn, now I have bigger problems to worry about than chasing after an unattainable quarterback that wouldn't give me the time of day," I tell him bluntly. "But I don't want to punch you. It's just my mood."

I'm about to go sit back down but he stops me. "Wait, wait, but that's the thing. I, like, would totally give you the time of day now, 'cuz I'm not dating Quinn and I actually really like you, Rachel. And I mean, I know that you're pregnant and all, but I...kinda want to see where this would go. And what happened in the auditorium, that meant something, right?"

Well, it did back then. But really, I have little to no feelings left for Finn, especially after this whole ordeal. I'm about to tell him this but suddenly, I see something out of the corner of my eye. Will. Stopped midway through writing rehearsal times on the whiteboard because he hears our conversation.

Oh, this is going to be good.

"I...yes," I answer confidently. "It really did mean something, Finn."

He smiles widely. "Yeah! That was like, really special. So...do you wanna go out sometime? Maybe to Breadstix or something?"

I can practically hear Will's breathing hitch. "I mean, I'd have to see what Quinn thinks, since, you know. But I'd love to go out with you," I finish broadly, slightly louder than the rest.

I stealthily glance over at Will. We make eye contact again, but this time I do not break it- instead, I give him a solemn little nod. Then for the first time, he's the one to look away. He goes back to writing on the board, but his movements are forced and stiff.

He looks... _crushed_.

Good.

-/-


	19. Chapter 19

-/-

Before October, if I knew I'd be going on a date with Finn Hudson, I probably would've freaked out and started planning our wedding. I was really that crazy about him. I don't know why I don't have those feelings anymore, maybe when they were pushed aside during 'Ballad' week they were pushed aside for good. Funny how my feelings for Will weren't deterred even after he raped me, but with Finn they're gone simply because I stopped pursuing them for awhile.

Though, it does give me a warm feeling to watch him struggle with spaghetti noodles across the table.

"So uh," he starts slowly, pasta halfway hanging out of his mouth, "what did Quinn think of this?"

I shrug. "She didn't seem to care very much. Although, a lot has been on her mind lately, I'm sure this is the least of her concerns."

Actually, when I asked her about it yesterday she seemed a little sad. I think it's because subconsciously, she thought Finn was always going to be hers, and now he's moved on. But I'm not going to mention this.

"Well yeah, but it's the same for you," he says. "You guys have like, the exact same problems. Except for her being kicked out."

"Mhm..." No. Our problems are actually very different, Finn.

He sets down his fork. "So, I haven't got to talk with you a lot since this all happened. In fact, I don't even know what happened. Are you okay? Is the father helping you out or anything?"

"I'm fine," I lie. "And the father is...compliant."

His voice lowers. "Everybody's saying it's Puck. That's not true, right?"

"No," I answer immediately. "God, no. Even Noah has more sense than to impregnate two girls within a matter of months."

"Yeah," he says. "But he was the last guy you dated."

"The father of my child and I were never dating."

There's a short pause in the conversation.

"How come you're keeping it such a big secret?" he questions. "Why does it matter if people know who your baby daddy is? It's not like you're-"

Then he stops mid-sentence and looks ashamed upon doing so. I know what he was going to say.

"Quinn," I finish quietly. "I'm not Quinn. That's true, but I still have my own reasons, Finn."

"I know," he admonishes. "Look, I'm sorry Rach, I don't mean to be all nosy. I shouldn't make you talk about stuff you're uncomfortable with."

I give him a grateful smile. "It's fine. I understand where you're coming from."

"Does she ever talk about me?" he then asks. "Quinn?"

I cock my head. "Not recently. But she felt so bad about lying to you, I just hope you know that."

"She, uh," he looks down, "she told me you were the one who talked her into telling me. I really appreciate that. I'm also sorry for cussing you and everybody else out that day, I kinda felt like an ass after it. So, that's the last time she talked about me?" he repeats.

"Well, on a large-scale at least. She mentions you now and again."

After a small silence, I come to terms with something.

"You still love her, don't you?" I state more so than ask.

He doesn't look up from his plate but nods. "Well...yeah."

I really feel bad for him. He's been put through hell with baby-gate and on top of it, he lost probably the only girl he's ever loved other than his mother. But it's good that he can at least come to terms with his feelings. Lord knows how long it took me to do that.

"Are you in love with the father of your baby?" he asks, as if reading my mind.

I let out a low sigh. "I don't want to. But yes."

"Well, I know how that feels, Rachel," he relates. "Man, this is just not a good year for anyone! I mean, look at Mr. Schue, his wife lied to him about having a freakin' baby and now they're getting divorced!"

Yeah, and now he's having an actual baby with a teenager that he raped, but that's beside the point.

Finn fidgets with a paper straw wrapper on the table. "Can I be honest with you Rach?"

"Yes."

"I think we make really good friends," he relents. "I mean, you're kinda high-maintenance and bossy and a little bit crazy sometimes, but you're really cool to talk to, you know? And I think...right now, you know with everything going on, it should stay like this. No pressure, no weird feelings, just...friends."

I genuinely smile at him as I reach over to pat his hand. "I couldn't agree more."

-/-

When the blue ice hits me, it has an especially sharp sting; I haven't been slushied in awhile.

"Hope the baby likes blue raspberry!" hollers an oafish-looking Karofsky. His breath indistinctively smells like beef jerky which is even more unpleasant than being covered in the frigid beverage.

As he runs off behind me, I turn and shout, "Even with a baby I'll always be more successful than you!"

Ugh. I live in a town of Neanderthals.

My entire body is stiff and I can hear people laughing at me, but I try to ignore them as I find my way to a bathroom. I'm too numb to cry.

"Rachel."

His voice makes me stop dead in my tracks. But I don't give him the satisfaction of turning around and I resume my stride quickly as I broke it.

What the hell does he want from me? Actually, I know the answer to that question. But can't he just take a hint? As Noah would so eloquently put it, piss off!

Will catches up to me. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks me.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone."

I can practically see his patience deteriorate. "Rachel, you-"

"Go away."

Before he can say anything else, I stomp into the women's restroom and hastily begin my post-slushie routine. When the late bell rings, I internally groan. I have an Algebra 2 test this period.

God, why can't Will just know where he stands and leave me alone?! Why can't he just understand that what happened on Christmas should be forgotten?! All he's doing is causing me even more stress, which I'm pretty sure is bad for the baby! If he really cares like he says he does, then he needs to just stay out of it!

When the corn syrup has all been scrubbed away, I retrieve a bottle of face moisturizer from my bag and quickly apply it. I don't bother redoing my makeup, I need to get to my math class.

I'm slinging my book bag over my shoulder when I exit the bathroom and promptly run straight into Will. Ah!

I yelp in surprise, jumping back. "What the hell, Will?" I demand. "What are you doing?!"

He looks serious. "We need to talk."

I roll my eyes and start walking, to which he follows. "Shouldn't you be in class?" I ask him dryly.

"This is my prep period."

I stop again and face him, crossing my arms defensively. "What do you want?"

His face looks sincere but my eyes could be tricking me again. He sighs. "Rach, you haven't even looked at me since the concert. We have to talk about what happened."

"There is nothing to talk about because nothing happened," I return cooly.

I actually wait around to see his reaction for this one. He stands still and rubs his face impatiently. Why do I get so much pleasure out of making him upset?

"God, Rachel, why do you always have to be like this?" he mutters.

I take this opportunity to leave, but yet again, he catches up to me. "Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

I choose my next words very carefully. "I was upset and vulnerable, so you kissed me. We kissed because I needed it then. That's what it means to me. Nothing."

He laughs in spite of himself. "You're such a liar! Rachel, I was the one on the other end, I know for a fact that you felt the same thing I did!"

Now he's making me mad. "And so what if I did? It's not like either of us are going to act on it!"

He doesn't react to this, and instantaneously I know something all the same. "No," I spit out, "Will, no! Do you honestly think that I want any part in this, after what you did?!"

"Rach, you know I'm not really like that. I would never do anything like that ever again, and you know it," he argues. "We have something here. You know it, Rachel, we have something. Something you're never gonna get with Finn Hudson."

"It's not even legal, Will," I protest, my voice cold and hard. He laughs again.

"This isn't either," he gestures to my stomach. "None of this is."

I throw my hands up. "Okay, say we do get together. How am I just supposed to forget what you've done to me? You raped me, Will! I've already told you how I feel about this!"

"Yes, you did. And you also told me how you still have feelings for me, despite it all," he counters. His voice is softer now. "I know what I did. I wish I could show you how much it tears me apart, Rachel, I really do. It makes me feel completely worthless. It was one, giant, horrible mistake. I swear to you, I will never do anything even close to that awful ever again, as long as I live."

"I can't know that," I tell him, feeling the bitter sting of unwanted tears rising in my eyes.

Will steps closer, as to make me look at him and into his eyes. "I know. But what you feel isn't for no reason. Rachel, this baby isn't for no reason. And it needs their father."

God damn him! I know what he's trying to do, I'm not stupid! Damn him for making me question myself, I'm right and he's wrong! This cannot happen!

I see his Adam's apple bob in his throat and he looks like he doesn't know what to say next. Then,

"Just think about it."

When I go to leave, he doesn't stop me this time.

-/-


	20. Chapter 20

-/-

"So, how did the appointment go yesterday?" Quinn asks, plopping down onto my bed and setting her bag beside it.

I abandon my bag as well and elect to sit cross-legged on the corner. "Good," I tell her. "Really good. They told me the gender."

"What?" she exclaims. "I thought you couldn't find out until the next one!"

"I thought so too," I say. "But I guess they could see it clear enough or something."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "So?"

I bite my lip as an involuntary grin stretches across my face. "It's a girl."

She smiles. "Aw, that's great, Rachel. Congrats."

"It's weird, you know?" I start, fiddling with a loose thread on my skirt. "I guess this all hasn't really hit me until now, now that I know she's a girl. It kind of puts me in perspective, a little."

"I know what you mean," she nods. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

"I have no idea where to even start," I laugh. "At least my options are narrowed by half, now."

She shrugs. "I guess I don't have that problem, since, you know."

I shoot her a sympathetic smile. "You're doing the right thing for your daughter, Quinn. And if you ever feel like you're missing out, you can borrow mine sometimes. I'm sure I'll be completely enthusiastic for a night off here and there."

She chuckles a little. "Oh, I know it's the right thing. I just hate how bad I feel doing it."

Before I can say anything to this, she glances up at my clock. "Oh, I have to go. I'll call you later, Rachel."

I watch with solemn eyes as she scoots off of the bed, retrieves her bag, and finally heads out. Maybe I shouldn't have acted so happy around her. I know she's getting more sensitive to these sort of things as her pregnancy comes to an end. She's due in three months already! It seems just like yesterday we were all finding out about her, back in the days of _Grease_ numbers, mash-ups, and crushing on Finn. You know, when my innocence was still intact and Will was still just my teacher.

 _Will_. God, has it really been an entire month since we last talked? I think he expects me to give him an answer about whether or not I want to be with him. And to be completely honest, I don't even know what I want! Yes, there are still feelings there and he seems like he's sorry for what he's done, but he can't just take it back! And I know that he wants to be involved with the baby, but does he even deserve that right?

My thoughts are paused for a moment when something catches my eye. The edge of a plastic bag sticking out from behind my desk; what is that?

I drag myself from off of the bed to investigate. Upon lifting it up, it clicks in my memory. Oh! My Barbra album! I bought this months ago, right after I found out about the pregnancy. How did I manage to completely forget about this?

I unsheathe the record from it's cardboard cover, walking over to my dresser. On top of it sits my baby blue Victrola; I set everything up and fall back onto my bed just as the music begins to play.

 _Seems like dreams like I always had_

 _Could be, should be making me glad_

 _Why am I blue?_

 _It's up to you to explain_

 _I'm thinking maybe, baby, I'll go away_

 _Someday, some way, you'll come and say_

 _It's you I need and you'll be pleading in vain_

I tilt my head. Well this sounds familiar.

 _It had to be you, it had to be you_

 _I wandered around, finally found somebody who_

 _Could make me be true, could make me be blue_

 _And even be glad, just to be sad_

 _Thinking of you_

Yeah...

 _Some others I've seen,_

 _Might never be mean, might never be cross,_

 _Or try to be boss, but they wouldn't do_

 _'Cause nobody else gave me a thrill_

 _With all your faults, I love you still_

 _It had to be you, crazy old you,_

 _It had to be you_

-/-

I had figured my years of dance lessons would make up for whatever challenges I'd face dancing while pregnant- I was sorely mistaken.

I'm nineteen weeks along, so about four months, and the combination of my bloated body and chronic dizziness has led to my balance being thrown completely off-guard. That, and I get more winded than Mercedes does before a single number is through.

Somehow Quinn is better off than me, despite her two month lead on me in relation to our condition. I guess after being the head cheerleader on the most competitive squad this side of the hemisphere, she's used to it.

"Turn, hands, step-ball-change," Will chants, at the front of our ensemble. "Turn-"

I'm still recovering from the first turn when out of nowhere, the force of an elbow smacks into my chest. "Ugh!" I'm shoved off my feet and I land on the ground, hard; it knocks the wind out of me. What the hell was that?!

"Watch where you're going, fat ass!" Santana sneers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Will stops the music. "Rachel, are you okay?"

He offers his hand out and I have no choice but to grab it. Ow...god, this hurts! Most of the impact went into my rear, but my entire lower half is throbbing with pain. Agh!

I'm pulled on my feet. "Okay?" he repeats, making eye contact for the first time in a month. It takes a moment for me to look away, and then I silently nod, grimacing.

"Why don't you go take a breather for a second," Will says softer, dismissing me with two pats on the shoulder. I then turn back around with a glare to Santana, and stagger my way back to the risers.

As I pass Brittany, she stops me and leans down to say something.

"Rachel, I think you got your period," she whispers not-so quietly.

What? What does she mean I got my period, I'm pregnant! I see her referring downward so I look, pulling the skirt of my dress back.

There's a wet smear of blood on my inner thigh. Why the hell is-

Then my head shoots up, and instantaneously Will and I share an equally terrified look. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

I've captivated everyone's attention now; they're all talking at once and it's too loud, too loud for me to even think, I can't even think about why I'm bleeding down there, why am I bleeding down there, shit, why am I bleeding down there?! Oh god, the baby-

My arm is grabbed and it's a blur of faces and colors and I feel like I'm spinning until I pass the piano- am I walking? "Alright, let's take you to the nurse real quick," I hear Will say, his voice trying to stay level but ending in a crack.

It isn't until the door slams behind us that the reality of the situation slams into me, the numbness evaporates. I'm crying now, too petrified to say anything but to call his name "Will?" in a faltered, trembling voice that isn't mine.

He doesn't answer me, only grips my arm tighter.

We round the corner and he swiftly guides us into the nurse's office. The older woman sits at her desk, and I can sense that she knows this is serious from the look on her face.

"She's pregnant," Will informs her. "She's just had a hard fall, and now she's bleeding."

The nurse shakes her head. "I'm only licensed to administer medicine and basic first-aid. But honey, this is not good, you probably should go to the hospital and see if your baby hasn't aborted."

Aborted. What.

The next thing I know, we're in the hallway again and I cannot will my legs to move. I can't will anything to move. He starts to say something, but before he can finish his sentence I completely break down, somehow managing to remain on my feet. My hands cover my face pathetically.

"Oh, Rachel," he whispers, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "It's gonna be okay. It's all gonna be fine."

"What if the baby's dead?" I sob. "God Will, what if the baby's dead?"

"The baby's fine, Rachel," he assures. "Now c'mon, we have to go."

My upper arm is grabbed again and I force my feet to shuffle across the floor. Shit, how is he so calm?! How can he even process all of this?! What the hell is going through his mind?!

I think I must be pulling behind again because he stops suddenly, right as we're about to go out the doors. "Rachel," he says again, pushing my hair away from my wet face. I feel like a small child when he does this. "It's all gonna be okay."

I sniffle, trying to slow the crying that is drawing dangerously close to hyperventilation. Will looks into my eyes.

"Trust me," he says.

-/-


	21. Chapter 21

-/-

When I head back out into the waiting room, I get the sensation that I'm walking on glass; as if I could step too heavy and fall through the floor.

Will is not sitting, instead he stands leant against the wall with his head bowed and his hands shoved in his pockets. When I come through the doorway, he looks up suddenly; anxious. He doesn't say anything, probably doesn't even know what to say in the first place, so he just keeps looking at me until I speak.

I sigh a relieved smile. "It's okay. The baby's okay."

Will exhales, his face softening from the hard expression he's had since we got here. "What happened?" he finally asks.

I crinkle my nose. "The doctor said that a piece of my hymen hadn't broken off completely and the force of the fall dislodged it. Everything is fine now, they just had to flush out the, uh...remnants."

"Oh," he blinks hard. "Hey, have you called your dads about all this?"

"Yes. I just got off the phone with one of them," I say. Then I notice the beige-colored clock on the wall. "Shit, I'm going to be late for work."

I start into the hallway to the lobby, Will following behind. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him and I sense something off. "What?" I ask him.

He shrugs, shaking his head. "I just didn't know that you have a job. Or that you swear."

"Well, I didn't do either until all of this happened," I reply pointedly.

The rest of the walk is silent until we get into his car in the hospital parking lot. It occurs to me for the first time today that the last time I was in his car, he made me ride in the backseat. And that was just two days before it happened.

Will pulls out of the space with a jerk, hard enough that my hand flies out against the door for support. He must be tense. We get back on the street, and he remains this way.

"It's a girl," I say after awhile. "I don't think I've told you that yet, I've been meaning to."

He presses his lips together, not looking away from the road. "Ah...no, you haven't. That's...great."

I wonder if he's drawing a parallel to the last time someone told him he was having a daughter. I know for a fact that his reaction then was much more than a hesitant 'that's great', but I'm not naive and I realize the difference between the imaginary baby with his wife and mine. There will always be a difference.

"Look, Rach," he starts slowly. "I just- I want to say how sorry I am for what I said last month. That was extremely juvenile of me, I shouldn't have acted like I did."

My mouth is dry. I know that it shouldn't require courage to say what I'm about to, but I consciously search for it.

"Um, about that," comes out hoarsely. "Will, what you said, uh... You've given me a lot to think about, with everything going on. I keep thinking about what Quinn's doing, how she doesn't have anybody, and I don't want that. And after today...I... _god_ , I don't know what to say. I-"

"You want to be with me," he finishes softly. We come to a stop in the deserted high school parking lot, he shuts off the car. He looks over at me with wide eyes. "Rach, are you sure?"

"Honestly," I answer, "no. I'm not sure at all. Pretty terrified, actually. I'm just thinking this would be best for the baby."

"It's not because-"

"That too," I cut off. "That too. But I'm going to be a mother, Will. My best interest is in the well-being of my daughter. And a girl needs her dad." The last part tapers off into a whisper.

Will nods slowly, staring at his lap. Why can't I shake the feeling that I'm betraying myself?

"So...we're together?" he eventually asks, quietly. I audibly sigh. Why is this so difficult? Am I really doing the right thing? This all seems so bizarre-

Stop. I've made up my mind. I did a long time ago, I think.

"Yes."

-/-

We get out of the car, the sound of the doors shutting echoing in the hollow parking lot. It is the only sound.

Will comes around to the passenger side and leans against the door after I close it. "What happens now?" he asks me.

I shake my head. "I don't know. I guess we should discuss this."

"Okay," he says. "Well, what's your schedule like?"

"I work at Paula's Diner on the weekdays, four to eight. So I can't really see you after school."

"Waitressing?" He breaks the seriousness with a small smirk. "I never saw Rachel Berry as a waitressing-type."

I roll my eyes. "Well I never saw Rachel Berry as a knocked up-type either, but here we are," I retort.

He chuckles. "So are your weekends good?"

"Well, my dads are definitely more strict now," I admit. "Especially since I told them I got drunk at a party and don't know who the father is. But I could use Quinn as an alibi."

God, this is the farthest thing from what you do when you start dating someone. I feel like I'm talking about business or something! Then again, are we really 'dating'? I think we're somewhat past that stage by now.

"It's so strange that you two are best friends now," he marvels. "I mean, it makes sense obviously, but you guys used to be at each other's throats just a couple months ago."

"That was before all of this baby drama humbled her and we were still fighting over Finn. It is weird, though," I say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of Finn-"

I dismiss it, shaking my head. "We went out to Breadstix and unanimously decided that we make really good friends. I have to admit, I was really only trying to make you mad."

"Understandable."

I clear my throat, it's starting to feel dry. "What about you?"

"My schedule?" he clarifies. "Rach, I'm sorry to break it to you, but I have no life outside of my work. In the middle of a divorce, remember?"

He stiffens as soon as he finishes, and I know he instantly regrets mentioning it. But I really couldn't care less. After all we've been through, can mentioning something like this really be deemed uncomfortable? Nevertheless, I change the subject.

"What are we going to do when she's born?" I inquire. "It's not like you can be there without my family knowing you're the father."

Will twists his mouth. "Then I guess I can't be there." He looks thoughtful for a second. "God, I can't have custody either. When am I even going to be around her?"

Well damn. "I hadn't even thought about that," I truthfully reply. "I don't know."

"Is there any possibility that your dads would be...accepting?"

"I don't think so," I say. "I'm pretty certain they'd have you arrested even if they didn't know about the rape."

His face darkens when I say this. "Rachel, I just hope that you know-"

"You won't ever do it again," I interrupt. "I know. You've told me a dozen times. Anyway, this isn't about me, remember?"

There's a long silence. "I don't know what we're going to do," I then say. "We'll have to worry about it later."

I see him suppress a sigh. "Rachel, that's not true, you know. The part about this not being about you. I'd like to think that we're not getting together just because of the baby, but if you think otherwise this relationship isn't going to last."

"I don't," I protest. "You know fully well about how I feel. We just...we need to look at our situation with practicality. This is still hard for me, Will. I can't just jump into this."

He nods. "I understand," he says. "But don't feel like you have an obligation for the baby. This is more than that."

A particularly cold gust of wind hits the side of the car, sending my hair sprawling across my face. Will brushes it back with careful fingertips.

I look up at him when he does this, specifically into his eyes. It's strange how fixated I've always been about them. But they always seem to keep changing. At first they were a fresh, spring color and I was innocent; a naive schoolgirl with a playful crush on her teacher. Then they were dark and hollow, and they reminded me of nothing but the feeling of terror and being alone. In my nightmares they turned electric, neon. Then after everything died down they returned to the spring color. Now, I don't know how to describe them. Translucent, maybe. Crisp.

Does he look at my eyes the same way? I don't know how many variations you can get from brown, if any. But he's looking at them now, like he can see straight through them and into my core.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks. His voice is husky, low. I don't have to say anything to give him an answer.

He cups my jaw with one hand and kisses me. It's soft and slow, and something is different. People talk about seeing fireworks when they kiss someone, feeling sparks fly. All I feel is numb.

Suddenly, a car door slams.

"What the hell?!"

-/-


	22. Chapter 22

-/-

" _What the hell?!_ "

Ice shoots down my spine.

My hands fall from his chest in an instant and so do his from my face. I whip around to find the source of the voice, already knowing who it is with a queasy feeling in my stomach.

Quinn is sprinting over from the opposite side of the parking lot. Oh god! How didn't I see her car over there?! How could I be this careless, now she knows! Aah, she knows!

As Quinn comes into focus, Will and I are both frozen in place. What do I do? What do I do?

Abruptly, she stops when she gets to us, a blank expression splayed across her face. "Oh my god," she breathes. "It was you. The whole time it was you."

Will is more articulate at the moment. "Quinn," he warns, "let's not jump-"

"You son of a bitch!" she screams, giving me a start. "How could you?! You goddamn son of a bitch!"

Before I can react, she shoves into his torso- hard enough for him to slam against the car. Aah! She starts clawing at his face and instantly my adrenaline kicks in, I grab her shoulders and yank with all my might until she stumbles. I wrap my arms around her chest, barely managing to hold her back while she flies at him and screams obscenities.

"Calm down!" I yell desperately. "Stop, Quinn! Stop!"

She gives a final scream before she breaks down, collapsing with a sob against me, limp. Unable to hold her weight, I clumsily lower us to the pavement.

I look back up to Will worriedly as she cries in my arms. His face is scratched raw from her fingernails. He does nothing except stand against the car in awe.

"I...trusted you _so much_ ," her voice wavers. "I thought you were someone I could rely on! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

I can't help but be taken aback. I've never heard Quinn curse like this before.

"Quinn-"

"You raped her!" she cuts off. "You committed the most despicable act against a woman that has ever existed! Don't try to stand there and tell me that you somehow made it okay! It will never be okay!"

"I know that, Quinn," he urges, keeping his voice level. "What happened is something I will always regret, it makes me feel like the absolute scum of the earth. I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could, and Rachel knows this. We're able to move past it."

Quinn laughs bitterly. "Then why don't you think about her for a change? Do you have any fucking clue about what she's been through?! What kind of trauma you've caused her? All the pain and humiliation and anxiety? I would know, I've actually listened to her, unlike _you_!"

"I know what I'm doing, Quinn," I plead. "I'm okay! I need Will in my life just as much as this baby does, trust me!"

She shakes her head, standing up from the ground. "Screw that. I'm calling the cops."

"No!" I shout, standing as well. "No, Quinn! I swear to god, if you call I won't ever forgive you! Don't do this to me!"

"You don't need him!"

"Yes I do! You don't understand, Quinn!" I'm crying now, hiccuping embarrassingly. "I know what he did! It's in the past! If you take him away from me, I can't do this! I can't handle this without him! Quinn, don't do this to me!"

"But-"

"Don't!" My breathing is hitched as I try to steady it, wiping my face pitifully. "Don't. Please."

She presses her lips into a thin line, looking at Will and then back to me. "Fine," she spits coldly. "I won't. Not today. I swear to god, Schue, if I ever hear about you-"

"It won't happen," he assures hurriedly. Oh thank God!

Quinn grabs my wrist tighter than necessary. "We're going back to your house," she announces. "We need to have a long talk about this, Rachel."

I nod my head silently. Her gaze shifts back to Will and I watch her eyes narrow into sinister slits. She takes a step toward him, his stone expression twitches.

"You. Are. _Nothing_. To me."

-/-

"Yes, I'm so sorry Paula," I say into my phone. "What kind of family emergency? Well I don't have permission to disclose that information. Trust me, I swear it won't happen again. Alright. See you tomorrow."

I snap it shut as the call ends. Glancing back at Quinn, I'm afraid to begin this conversation.

"What are you feeling?" I ask tentatively. She laughs breathily.

"Betrayal," Quinn answers. "Utter betrayal. It's like getting the wind knocked out of you."

I nod dumbly. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have found out this way."

"Rachel, what the hell are you thinking?" she demands. "I can't believe you can just forgive and forget like this! And on top of it, aren't you the tiniest bit concerned for your safety? The safety of your baby? He is a dangerous man!"

"When he's drunk," I counter. "And it only happened once. He keeps swearing to me that he'll never do anything like that again, and I'm kind of inclined to believe him because that wasn't who he was! That night in October, it wasn't him. I guess the whiskey took over or something, but that was not him, trust me."

She groans. "God, Rachel, why do you have to make everything so difficult for yourself? How long has this been going on?"

"It hasn't," I say truthfully. "We only just decided on the car ride back. Why were you still there?"

Quinn looks at me like there is an obvious answer. "Why do you think? I wanted to be there for you if the baby didn't end up okay. And thank God she is okay, but if things went differently, what kind of friend would I be if I wasn't there?"

"Thanks," I smile. "I would have done the same, you know."

She sinks back into my bed, exalting a hybrid of a groan and sigh. "I just can't believe it's him. It all makes so much sense now, with the little things you told me. I can't stop thinking about how I was so willing to give that man my child."

"Will is a good guy, Quinn," I attempt. "He just made a mistake. Everyone does."

"Yes, Rachel, I suppose he did, but when most people talk about mistakes, they mean silly little choices like smoking pot or skipping an English assignment. You know, something not entirely catastrophic to another person's life," she retorts.

"He loves me," I try. "Quinn, no one has ever loved me. How can I just forget that? This might be my only chance at finding love in this world, and it might as well be with the father of my child."

She laughs lowly. "Rachel, you can be so clueless."

"Says the girl who decided to cheat on her boyfriend and have unprotected sex with Noah Puckerman," I mutter.

Quinn sits up, cocking her head into a glare. "I don't need this!" she fires back. "Rachel, I'm not getting the authorities involved, but that does not mean I think you are any less _stupid_ for getting yourself into this situation! This story has been told too many times for you to think it will turn out well! A man twice your age, this infatuated with you? You listen to me, this is bound for disaster!"

Like a burst of wind, she picks herself up from my bed and slams the door behind her.

-/-


	23. Chapter 23

-/-

"Hey Rach, come in, quick."

Will ushers me into his apartment. The last time I was here was roughly four months ago when I cleaned and made venison casserole under the supervision of his ex-wife. I hope he doesn't mention this.

"I hate sneaking around like this," I grumble. "It makes me feel like I'm a criminal or something."

"Well I don't know what to tell you, other than we won't have to do this after two years," he chides.

"I know."

His hand runs down my arm, lacing my fingers with his and he leads me into the living room. We sit down on the couch; he pulls me under his arm against his chest.

"I'm so happy," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear.

"So what are we going to do?" I ask him.

Will sighs. "Well, we can't go out anywhere, at least not in Lima. We could watch a movie," he suggests. "I have a DVD of Funny Girl, I know that's your favorite."

I manage a grin. "Yes."

He gets up to go to the entertainment center, pulling the movie out. "So, uh. I never got the chance to ask but, how's Quinn taking it?"

I roll my eyes. "She hasn't spoken to me all week. But she vowed not to tell, so I guess we're good."

"Oh." He turns away from the TV for a moment and looks at me confusedly. "I still can't understand how she instantly knew I was the father. We were just kissing, for all she knew that could've been completely unrelated."

"She knew I had feelings for the guy," I explain. "And I told her about what happened after the Christmas concert. I always spoke about you vaguely so I guess she just put the pieces together."

Will presses 'play' and returns to his spot on the couch. "I'm just glad it was her waiting out there," he says, "and not your parents or anybody else. I don't think they could've been so easily swayed."

I shrug, leaning back into him. "Well, Quinn understands where I'm coming from. She's known about my feelings for you for awhile now."

He wraps his arms around me, holding me closely as the overture begins. My ear is pressed against his chest and I can hear his slow, staccato breathing. He's fingering the tips of my hair, which is strangely soothing. His arms are so warm...

"Rach."

My eyes fly open. The first thing I notice is the blue menu screen of the DVD player on the TV; the movie has been long over.

"I slept through the whole thing?" I ask incredulously.

He chuckles. "You didn't even stay awake long enough for the first song. But I nodded off too, somewhere after the second act."

"How long have we been-"

"I don't know, I just woke up."

I twist my head to catch a glimpse of his wall clock- it reads 9:12.

"Damn!" I sit up straight. "I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago!"

I reach for my purse in a hurry, heading out. "Rach, wait!" Will calls. I stop and turn impatiently.

"Rachel, I've been thinking about all of this. I think you should quit your job," he tells me. "It's not fair that I only get to see you Sundays, and Saturdays after four with your church."

"Temple," I correct. "And I can't quit, I need the money."

"So let me give you the money," he argues. "Your dads don't have to know. Besides that, you've missed all of the after school glee rehearsals since taking it."

Yeah...

"You're right," I agree. "And I hate it so much. Okay, I'll quit. It's getting increasingly harder for me to bus tables anyway."

He smiles. "Great. So are you coming over tomorrow?"

"Yes, I don't have anything going on Sundays," I say. "I'll call you later."

"Bye, Rach," he says as I shut the door behind me. My phone begins to buzz.

"Hello?"

"Rachel," Quinn says flatly, "Your dads just called me asking why you aren't home yet. Luckily for you, I don't hold grudges and told them we forgot about the time studying. You're at Mr. Schuester's, aren't you?"

"Just leaving," I tell her. "We fell asleep watching a movie."

"What, did he slip something into your drink? Do you feel sore anywhere?" she asks sarcastically.

Ugh.

"First of all," I snap, "don't make rape jokes to a girl who's actually been raped. Second of all, I will not subject myself to hanging around someone who will only talk _shit_ about the man I'm with."

"I'm just being honest!"

I sigh, leaving the apartment building. "Quinn. There's something I never told you. Frankly, I still don't want to but you've given me no choice."

"Rachel, you're scaring me."

I make sure that I'm safely inside of my car before I continue what I'm about to say.

"Well, something happened. Something big. I...well, I tried to kill myself. Back in December, I slit my wrists so I would bleed out."

There is no answer on the other end.

"Will had called me just before and I told him what I was doing. You know how my bathroom door won't shut all the way? That's because he broke it down trying to stop me. Quinn, he saved my life. The baby's life. I can't just tolerate you treating him this way for one mistake when he's the reason I'm sitting here talking to you."

"What the hell?! Rachel, you- why- what- _Rachel_?!" she exclaims. "I can't believe you! You actually tried to _kill_ yourself?! Why the hell didn't you tell me about this, you need help!"

"I was just...really, _really_ overwhelmed," I say. "I don't know what was going on in my head that night. I'm fine now, I don't need any help."

"But why didn't you tell me?!"

"I don't know," I mumble. "I didn't want to talk about it."

I hear her sigh. "I just... _god_ , I can't believe this! Rachel, this is really not a good conversation to have over the phone. I'll come over sometime soon, okay?"

"Okay."

-/-

I pretend to be engrossed in song selections as the last of the club files out of the choir room.

When the door shuts, my eyes slyly trail from the print before me up to Will's face, very slowly. This makes him laugh.

He stands next to the piano and I go to him, saying nothing but only managing a demure smile. "Hi," he says coyly.

"Hi."

He slinks an arm around my waist. "We've been together for a week today," he says softly. "I'm so glad, Rach."

Ah, yes. February 2nd, 2010. The day I agreed to start dating my rapist. Of course, I don't really think about him in this light. I just find the situation incredibly ironic.

"So what are we doing?" I ask him.

"Well," he says. "I heard of this ice cream place in Waynesfield. The owner is lactose-intolerant so it's all vegan, and I'm pretty certain nobody will recognize us. The population is about 850 people."

"Is it far away?"

"About twenty minutes," he answers.

I smile up at him. "You're so thoughtful." He gazes at me, and then leans down to kiss me on the corner of my mouth.

"And you're so pretty."

I shoot him a skeptical look. "Hey, we're not supposed to do that here. What if somebody just saw us?"

Will doesn't answer, just shakes his head lightheartedly. "Let's just go get our ice cream, Little Ms. Buzzkill."

We have a system for leaving the school together. Since I quit my job yesterday, I've been staying after school with him instead of going home. Yesterday we just went back to his place again. We go out through the faculty door, out to the teacher's parking lot in the back of the building, and take his car. If anyone ever questions us, we'll tell them we're going to a music store on a glee club assignment. But I doubt if that ever happens, usually if the staff here ever sees anything amiss they just turn their heads. That is, according to Will anyway.

This part of the school is pretty deserted, as it was yesterday. That's probably because it's mandatory for teachers to stay until 3:30, however Will gets out of it somehow because he's a club administrator.

"I have to be back before eight," I remind him, as we both get into his car. "I know," he says.

I buckle my seatbelt. "I guess this is our first real date, huh?" I say.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Rach, I hope you realize how... _thankful_ , I am. About how this turned out."

"Me too," I return softly.

Without taking his eyes from the road, Will takes one hand off of the steering wheel and grabs my hand with it. His thumb caresses my knuckles and they rest on the middle console.

"So it seemed like you and Finn were having a good time today," he remarks.

I can't help but giggle. "I don't even remember what we had been talking about, but somehow the conversation ended up being about presidents. So that's what we were discussing, and then all of a sudden Finn goes: 'I just think it's kinda creepy that Obama doesn't have a last name.'"

Recalling it makes me laugh harder. "And...and I had to explain to him that Obama _is_ his last name, and he didn't even believe me until I looked it up on my phone and showed him!"

I'm recovering from a fit of laughter when I slowly realize that Will isn't doing the same.

"Isn't that funny?" I ask him incredulously. There's a long pause.

"Rachel, I don't want you hanging around Finn anymore," he then says.

My mouth gapes. "What?"

"It's obvious he has feelings for you, and to the best of his knowledge, you're still single," he furthers. "I don't want him to get any ideas."

What the hell? "Uh, first of all, he's still in love with Quinn," I scoff. "And secondly, even if he did get 'ideas', I think I'm a big enough girl to tell a boy 'no' for myself. What the hell, Will? Finn is my friend!"

He shakes his head. "Yes, to you, he's a friend. But to him, he's in the friend- _zone_. I'm not comfortable with you talking to him all the time."

"I don't even talk to him that much!" I protest. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that I have to deal with you flirting with other guys everyday, right in front of me!" he yells.

I gasp. "I do _not_ flirt with other guys! What the-"

"Enough!"

I flinch at the sudden sharpness in his tone.

He exhales. "You're not going to talk to Finn Hudson anymore, okay?"

"But-"

"Okay?" The grip on my hand has become tighter, and my voice has suddenly disappeared.

"O-okay."

-/-


	24. Chapter 24

-/-

It's official. I can no longer fit into any of my regular clothes.

Well, at least anything with a zipper or tight fabric. Lately I've been milking the sweatpants-sweatshirt combo a bit too often for my liking. But at 21 weeks along, I think I've held out for a respectable amount of time without maternity clothes. Quinn promised to take me shopping tomorrow after school.

That is, if Will lets me go.

Over the past two weeks, he's been starting to become possessive of me. At first he didn't want me talking to Finn, then it was all boys in general, and now I'm getting the feeling that he gets jealous of Quinn whenever I tell him we're hanging out. What is with him? I can understand him being jealous of my attention going to other boys, but my best friend? I don't know. I've never had a real boyfriend before so I guess this is just how it is.

I knock on his door, like I have dozens of times before. I've been spending all of my time with him, and it's been going really well. What possibly can he be jealous about?

The door swings open. "Hey," he grins. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Will takes my hand and pulls me into the apartment, subsequently into the crook of his arm. "Happy Valentine's Day," I answer.

We walk into the living room and sit on the couch. "Dinner's almost done," he says. "Vegan penne pasta with an olive oil sauce, and Cesar salad. I'm waiting on the garlic bread to finish. Oh. And here."

Will gets up momentarily to go into the hallway and he comes back with a bouquet of flowers and an impish smile.

"Will!" I protest. "You're spoiling me. And now I feel bad because all I got you was a jumbo bag of Skittles with hearts instead of the 'S's."

He returns to his seat on the couch, wrapping an arm around my middle. "You know Skittles are my favorite. And I want to spoil you. You're my other favorite."

I light-heartedly roll my eyes and snuggle into his chest. "I didn't know you could cook," I muse.

"Well I didn't know you could either," he returns mischievously. "I recall a certain venison casserole that-"

I smack him playfully before he finishes that sentence. "Let's not discuss that particular time, thank you. All I did was act like a crazy stalker."

"An adorable crazy stalker," he chuckles. "It's no wonder I-"

Will pauses. I look up at him, wary of his next words, and he knows it.

"-fell in love with you." Smoothly, he changes the subject. "So how are you feeling today?"

"Wonderful," I answer. "This morning I thought I felt her kick, but I think I was just gassy."

His hand shifts to trace my abdomen and he is strangely quiet. "Aren't you going to say anything?" I ask him.

He suddenly smiles, shakes his head. "I'm just..." he trails off. "The last time..."

"Oh."

Will is still being quiet so I tilt my head up to look at him. I see him swallow hard.

"Hey," I calmly say. "I'm not her. You don't have to worry about-"

"That's not what I was going to say," he laughs gently. "I was gonna say...I love you. And I know it's too early for me to tell you, but I don't care. I love you."

My face flushes. Oh, wow.

"You don't have to-"

"No," I interrupt softly. "I love you too, Will."

He kisses me tenderly. My hand comes up to the side of his face, and I feel myself falling against the arm of the couch. It's starting to heat up now, his tongue is in my mouth and his hand is on my breast. Suddenly, I feel the absence of his lips and I realize that he's kissing my neck. His knees on both sides of my hips somehow make me claustrophobic, and I try not to draw parallels to that night, but I can't help it.

"Will."

I'm completely breathless.

"Rach," he murmurs against me.

" _Will_ ," I try again. "Wait."

I bring my hand down and push against him until he stops. "What's wrong?" he asks huskily.

"Will," I gulp. "We haven't...discussed this, I can't...I'm not ready to-"

"It's okay," he whispers, kissing my forehead. "No, I get it. We'll wait until you're ready."

I can't look at him. "Will..." I falter. "After, after what happened. I think it's going to take awhile."

His brows furrow. "How long?"

Oh shit. Silently I plead for the courage to answer him.

"Like... _forever_."

He's off of me and I instantly feel sick. "What? You mean you never want to have sex with me?" he asks flatly. "Not ever, not at any time in the future?"

Here we go...

"Well," I stammer, "I bet plenty of couples don't have sex. It's not like it's...necessary."

He scoffs. "Yeah, couples who resent each other. Rachel, I'm a man. I have needs. And excuse me for wanting to show love to the mother of my child."

"Well I have needs too!" I protest, a bit shaken. "I'm not ready to have sex with the man who-"

"Don't," he cuts off irritably. Will runs a hand over his face and groans, and I feel like complete shit. "Just...it's fine. It's fine. We'll wait for now, and after awhile I know you'll change your mind. It's all good, let's not spoil tonight by arguing. Alright?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper. The oven beeps loudly.

"Don't be," Will tells me, getting up to leave. "It's fine, okay? I love you."

"I love you too."

He walks away into the kitchen like nothing even happened. But I remain here and I still can't quite slow the pounding in my chest.

-/-

Quinn plops a third serving of mashed potatoes onto her tray and then joins me in the checkout line.

"Sure you got enough?" I tease.

"Ha ha," she returns unamusedly. "Let's see who's laughing when they enter third trimester."

I shrug. "I have been getting a really weird craving for Kool-Aid lately."

We pay for our lunches and then find our little table in the corner of the cafeteria. Which is now so-hilariously dubbed, 'The MILF Table'. I glance over at Quinn and pick up something off about her.

"Rachel, I need to tell you something," she says eventually. So my intuition was correct.

"What?"

She pushes a piece of popcorn chicken around on her plate. "Someone called about adopting my baby."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Really?" I exclaim. "That's great, Quinn! What happened?"

"Well I wasn't going to worry about the proceedings until after the birth," she starts, "so I haven't been 'on the market', so to speak. But someone called my agency and requested me specifically."

"That's strange," I comment. "Do you know who it is?"

Quinn silently nods, staring at her mashed potatoes. This worries me.

"Who?" I ask quieter.

She sighs deeply. "Shelby Corcoran."

What?

No.

No...

"You're not serious," comes out as a nervous laugh. Her continued silence deepens the pit in my stomach.

"That can't be r-, why would Shelby. Why would-" My face burns as bitter tears rise behind my eyes.

"Rachel-"

"Save it."

My legs feel like jello as I stumble from the table and stomp out. What the fuck?! I knew Shelby didn't want anything to do with me, but I didn't know she completely hated me! Why the hell would she do this?! Why would she deliberately go out of her way to tell me that anyone would be a better daughter than me?! What kind of person-

 _Oomf!_

I wasn't looking when I went around a corner and now I've hit someone. I step back to see who've I run into and lo and behold, Will is standing before me.

"Rachel?"

One look into his face and my stone expression of anger crumbles. I can't manage to do anything except fall against him as the onslaught of tears finally start up.

"Woah, woah, what happened?" he asks, coherently confused. "C'mon, let's take this into my office."

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and I cry against his as we walk there. Even if Sue Sylvester passed us at this moment, she would see nothing amiss about the glee club director comforting his star drama queen. Only this time I'm not being dramatic. I'm pretty justified to my sorrow, wouldn't you say?

The door shuts behind us. "Baby, what's going on?"

"Quinn," I sniffle, "Shel- Shelby wants to. To adopt her baby."

"What?"

"I just don't get it, Will!" I howl. "Why would she tell me that she couldn't be my mom and then turn around and want to adopt my best friend's baby? Why...why am I not good enough for her?! What did I do wrong?!"

He pulls me against him and holds me tightly. "Nothing, you did nothing wrong, sweetheart," he mumbles into my hair. I still cry into his shirt.

"Then why?"

I hear him sigh. "Rach, I don't know. Shelby sounds like a very indecisive woman. It's not your fault."

I choke back another round of tears. "I just...I wish I never even found that stupid tape. I could just go back to imagining my mother the way I, I wanted her to be, you know?"

"God. Rach," he starts, "I don't think you...ah, forget it."

This alarms me. "What? What were you going to say?"

He sighs again, rubbing circles into my shoulder. "Well...honey, I don't think you really understand how... _toxic_ your family life really is."

"What?"

"Well there's Shelby obviously," he explains, "but your dads...I don't think you comprehend exactly how-"

"What?" I repeat, my voice sharpening. He shakes his head.

"Well first of all, they're never even around," he says.

"They are too!" I protest.

"Where were they when you found out you were pregnant?" he asks sternly. "Rachel, where were they when you slit your goddamn wrists and almost died?"

I don't know what to think. "On business," I mumble.

"Exactly. Rach, I hate to say this but your parents..." I can see him choosing his next words. "They don't care about you like they should. If they loved you, like I love you? They wouldn't just leave you at home like this all the time, especially when you're going through this all. Hell, I don't think you'd be able to keep all the things you do from them if they just paid attention for once."

"Will, my parents love me very much," I plead, beginning to feel lightheaded. "You're wrong."

"No," he counters. "I care about you enough to tell you the truth. I'm just glad you at least have me."

I'm about to respond to this but we're both startled by a knock on the door. Will simply shakes his head and goes to open it.

"Rachel?"

Quinn stands there, her phone in hand, and concern tracing her face. "Um, the agency gave me Shelby's number. I have her on the phone, is it possible-"

"Give me it," I spit, before I even make the decision in my mind.

Reluctantly, she hands over the phone.

"Hello?"

I hear some rustling. "Rachel? Look honey, I didn't realize this would make you so upset."

"Yeah? Well it did," I retort. "You tell me that you don't want to be a mother, and then turn around and want to adopt my best friend's baby? I just...I don't understand! If you want a daughter, why can't it be me?"

"Rachel...," she tries. "I. This is hard for me, you know? I missed my chance with you. I wish I hadn't, but I did. This is my chance to get back what I lost sixteen years ago."

Will and Quinn look to me in an anxious silence. I look back and forth between them trying to decipher my next words, until I finally shake my head firmly.

"You are such a hypocrite," I say coldly. "No, you know what? This is all _bullshit_ , everything you say! If you really cared about my feelings, you wouldn't have just dismissed me the very moment I met you! You wouldn't have made me feel completely worthless, not knowing what the hell I did wrong to make my own mother repulse at the sight of me! But I know now, I didn't do a damn thing wrong. It was all you! And now, now you have the audacity to tell me I'm replaceable? That just anyone could make a better daughter than me? That's where you're wrong, Shelby. No matter how hard you convince yourself, you can't just replace me. _You_ were the one who made the decision to give me up. That was what _you_ did! Not me! So stop trying to hurt me out of spite for your own mistakes!"

In one motion I thrust the phone back into Quinn's hand and take a big, gasping breath. "Oh my god," my voice trembles. Will pulls me to him before I fall over and presses a kiss to the side of my forehead, despite Quinn's presence. She stands there, phone in hand, clearly bewildered.

"Rachel? Rachel, are you there?" I can hear come through the speaker. Suddenly, it's like Quinn's snapped out of it, and her fingers close around the red plastic. She slowly brings it up to her face.

"This is Quinn," she says cooly. "And you can't have my baby."

The click of the lid snapping shut is the only sound.

-/-


	25. Chapter 25

-/-

Just as the door gently clicks shut, the light flashes on and I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Rachel Barbra Berry!" booms from an unseen source, my eyes still adjusting to the contrast.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Do you have any idea of what time it is?"

Dad is sitting at the table, drumming his fingers rapidly, and Daddy stands leant against the archway beside the light switch. He repeats, "Do you?!"

"Uh...um...no," I stutter. "I went to Quinn's and us and Mercedes were watching a movie. We fell asleep."

Well, that's partially true. I only substituted the location and participants, along with what exactly I was participating in. But there was a movie on at some point.

"Oh, really," Dad says flatly. "And your father and I are just supposed to...take your word for it?"

His demeanor makes my mouth instantly dry. "W-why wouldn't you?" I feign naivety. He purses his lips.

"Well Rachel," he muses, "when you didn't come home from work tonight we decided to call in. Then, for some strange reason, Paula informed us that you actually hadn't been working there for the past month."

There's a deadly silence.

I swallow in an effort to draw moisture from anywhere. "I quit," I say suddenly. "I hated every second in that place and besides, it was getting too hard on me."

Daddy retreats from his position to the table. "The fact of the matter isn't that you quit," he begins slowly, "but that you've been lying to us. Rachel, where have you been all this time?"

"Quinn's," I automatically answer.

"How do you expect us to believe that?" Dad's voice rises. "If you were lying about your job, who's to say you're not lying about your whereabouts every day?"

Hot, frustrating tears begin to rise up. "Because you're supposed to trust me!"

"Trust you?!" he bellows. "Rachel, I don't believe you understand the meaning of that word! It's one thing to get drunk and ultimately become pregnant by a stranger, but to repeatedly lie to us afterward? Especially now? It'd be a goddamn miracle if your father and I had one _ounce_ of trust for you!"

"As far as we know, you're out doing the exact things that got you into this situation in the first place," Daddy pipes in. "Rachel, what happened to you? You were such a responsible, level-headed girl!"

Suddenly, I can't help but wonder why I've spent so much time and effort defending these people to Will. Ever since the day Shelby called, my family matters have been a strained topic of conversation between us. He's told me over and over that my parents don't treat me right, and I've always argued with him. But now I wonder...what was I arguing for? Will is right. And it's like a switch has been flipped inside of me.

"Yeah?" I retort. "You wouldn't know, you're not even around most of the damn time!"

This stops them both in their tracks, and they look at me as if I started speaking in Chinese. "What?"

"I said," I repeat, low and sharp, "You're never even around! If you're really wondering why I'm so different, maybe you should've taken the time to actually interact with me before my life went to shit!"

Daddy gasps. "Rachel! Do you hear how ungrateful you're being? We work to support _you_! You and this baby you don't even remember conceiving let alone who fathers it!"

"Well I'm sorry for being such an inconvenience," I cry. "I'm so sorry that you have to come home from work every once and awhile and be around your whore of a daughter! I'm sorry for humiliating you in front of this hellhole of a town by having a bastard baby! And I'm sorry for being stupid enough to think you might actually love her, and not care about how expensive she is! Obviously I was wrong!"

"Rachel, what has gotten into you?!"

"Rachel, we care about you and this baby very much! How can you say such a thing?!"

I laugh bitterly. "You don't give a shit about me! Which isn't surprising because no one ever has!"

I go to leave but Dad catches my arm. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just get away with all of this without consequences!"

"I don't care! Torture me, kill me, it's all the same to me!" I yell.

"You are grounded indefinitely," Daddy announces, pointing an angry finger at me. "No Quinn, and no car! We have to be in Columbus for the weekend, but I'll call the Davidson's next door and we better not hear of you going out!"

What?!

"You're being unfair!" I protest.

"We're being parents," Dad fires back. "Isn't that what you want?"

I promptly stomp my way up the stairs and slam my bedroom door behind me. Sliding to the floor, sobs rolling so effortlessly from my throat, I feel something that I haven't in awhile. Heartbroken.

-/-

 _Ver in Yo form...veo._

As I finish conjugating the last verb on my Spanish quiz, I reach into my binder to pull out a sticky note. In hard letters I scrawl, 'NEED TO TALK. NOW.', and stick it to the paper before getting up and handing it to Will.

Carefully I return to my seat and wait to gauge his reaction. I see him peel off the blue note and his head bobs up to look at me. 'Now?' he mouths.

I nod my head vigorously. I raise my hand. "Mr. Schuester, may I go to the bathroom?"

He looks slightly nervous. "Go ahead."

I get up to go and as the door is closing behind me, I hear him say something about making copies. He is quickly beside me in the hallway.

"What happened? The baby-"

"No," I clarify. "The baby's fine. But something happened last night with my parents and I need to tell you now."

Will nods grimly, nudging my shoulder. "Okay. Um, my office is getting new carpeting today, but I know where we can go."

He leads me down the hallway past the science wing and takes a right turn, then a left until we come to the threshold of a hall I've never seen. The walls in this hallway are beige, and the paneling is unpainted unlike the rest of the building. All of the lockers are opened, eerily looking.

"What is this?" I ask.

"They used to use these classrooms back when I went to school," he answers. "But now they're only storage and maintenance. We can talk here."

I take a breath. "Will, my parents found out about my job. And they asked where I was all the time and I told them with Quinn, but they didn't believe me. We...we had a big fight last night."

The memory itself brings tears to my eyes. I've never fought with my parents before.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "What did they do? Why is this so urgent?"

I shake my head. "No, no. I'm fine, they grounded me and took my car. But I had to tell you right away. Will, you were right."

His eyebrows furrow. "I was right..."

"About my family," I explain, feeling my throat swell. "They don't love me. They don't care about anything except money and it was made painfully clear last night that they only think I'm some trashy slut."

I feel myself beginning to break down and Will takes me under his arm. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers.

"No," I choke out. "I'm sorry. I was so adamant about them and I never believed you. You were always just trying to look out for me, and I pushed you away whenever you tried to tell me. Will, I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything to this. I reach up and kiss him gently, and he returns it. My arms wrap around his neck, his around my waist.

"Oh," I remember suddenly. "We can't do this here!"

His mouth smiles against mine. "What can't we do? This?"

In one motion, he lifts me up from under my butt and spins me around wildly. I can't help but shriek.

"Will! Stop!"

"Okay," he laughs. He stops spinning and backs us into a locker with a clang. "Will!" He starts kissing my neck and I wriggle around until he drops me.

"Not funny!" I tell him. He shoots me a goofy grin and plants a kiss on my nose. I return the smile, not too much though.

"You need to lighten up, Rach."

I bite my lip playfully. "Well you need to..."

My words trail off as my gaze catches something behind Will. A person.

-/-


	26. Chapter 26

-/-

We stand frozen in silence, the three of us.

Will's hands are still clenched at my waist and they burn there, like two flames of unmistakable evidence. We still stand so close that I can feel his short breath on my ear, and my hands lie slack on his chest. I don't know if my skin is red where he kissed me, but I feel as if each spot has been marked with an 'x'.

Our current position is incriminating, to say the least.

The third stands at the threshold of the hall, one earbud fallen from its place in his ear, swinging lifelessly. The owner of it is a boy that I recognize from the freshman class, but that's all I know of him. I watch his eyes dart between Will's face and mine, as the blank expression on his acne-riddled face slowly twists into recognition. My heart sinks.

"Wait-"

The sudden sound of Will's voice seems to pull the boy back into focus, and before Will can finish, he breaks off into a run in the opposite direction.

My head is pounding.

"Oh my god, Will!" I unintentionally squeak. "What are we going to do, what are we going to do?!"

"Shush!" he whispers sharply, taking me by the shoulders. "Rachel, keep your voice down, I-"

"This is your fault! I told you not to do that here and look what happened!" I feel my eyes bulging out of my head.

"I know, I know! Just stay calm, I need to figure out what to do," he laments.

"What to do?" I ask incredulously. "Will, it's all over! That kid is going to turn you in and you'll be done for! _I'll_ be done for! How could you be so careless, we made very distinct rules about-"

Abruptly I'm cut off by his hand against my mouth, to which I protest with a muffled 'Hey!'.

"Look at me, baby," he pleads. I do as he says. "You have to calm down! I swear, everything is gonna be fine, I can figure this out. We just need to approach this with precision."

More tears are springing to my eyes. Will must see this because he sighs, then hugs me tightly. "Rach...Rach, it will all be okay. Just give me until the end of the day, I'll come up with something. I promise."

I pull out of the embrace. "Will, what are we going to do?"

"Right now? We're gonna act like nothing happened, that's what we're gonna do. Come on."

We start to make our way back down the deserted hallways, my footsteps heavy. "I'll go in first," he says. "You wait awhile and then come in, so it won't look like anything."

When we get back to the room, I watch him enter with weary eyes and I take position outside of the door. What the hell just happened?! How could we be so stupid as to allow something like this?! Chances are, that kid is going to say something! What's going to happen when he does? Will there be an investigation, or will they just arrest him on the spot? Surely they can't arrest him without evidence, right? And if they question us, we can just deny everything, our word against one! But what if they see through our lies? What if they bring others into the investigation and ask Quinn, would she betray me or tell them the truth? Oh god, what if-

All of a sudden I remember that I'm supposed to go inside. I take a deep, trembling breath and open the door as calmly as I can act. Taking my seat, I can feel everyone's eyes on me. It makes my movements stiff and unnatural, which I hope they don't notice.

The rest of the day just crawls by. Every other minute I'm expecting the phone to ring, to summon me to the principal's office so I can be subject to screaming accusations. And I wonder if Will is feeling the same way. I wonder if he really does have a clue about how we should move forward. I'm so scared he doesn't.

-/-

When I walk into glee club at the end of the day, I take my seat and he looks at me very strangely. My fears are worsened.

"What's wrong?"

I turn to see Quinn sitting besides me, and I shake my head. "Nothing. Why?"

"Well, you were pretty quiet at lunch," she says. "And when you came back from talking to Schue in Spanish, you looked you'd seen a ghost or something."

My breath intakes. "How did you-"

"Don't worry," she dismisses. "It was only obvious to me because I know you're together. No one else picked up on it. What were you talking about?"

"Oh, how I got grounded," I answer nonchalantly, purposely leaving out the events that took place afterward.

The tardy bell rings and I watch Will drag a stool to the front of the room, trying to make eye contact with him. He refuses to look at me.

"The hell, Schue?" says Noah. "It's Friday, you said we had a free period today."

"You do," he assures. "I just...I wanted to have a moment of your time. It's getting closer and closer to Regionals, and the fate of this club is still unclear. It's been a long year. We've been through so much together, from our own personal drama to the collective problem of keeping this club together. Look at us. In the beginning, we all came from different backgrounds, high on the food chain and low. Today we sit here together, united toward the same goal. And I just want you guys to know, no matter what happens, I am so proud of each and every one of you. You all have made...such a difference in me."

As the club reacts to this, we finally make eye contact so I raise an eyebrow. He ignores this.

"All right," Will smiles. "That's all I wanted to say. You can have your free period now."

The noise level returns to a low roar. Quinn has struck up conversation with Mercedes, so I elect to casually make my way over to the piano bench where he has retreated to.

"What was that about?" I ask.

"Hm? Uh, nothing," he shrugs. Nothing my ass. "So...about this morning. Nothing's happened yet, right?"

"No. But I'm suspecting that it isn't going to stay that way for much longer," I chide. "Will, what the hell are we doing here?"

He looks down, chewing his lip. "Well, I've really been thinking this through all day. And I have a plan, which I honestly think is our best option. Maybe only option."

"What?"

He motions to the risers with a tilt of his head. "I can't tell you now," he says. "You'll have to be patient until the end of the period."

I sigh. "Will, I'm so stressed about this, I don't even think I can be patient for..." Suddenly I am at a loss for words.

"What's wrong?"

A grin spreads across my face. "She's kicking," I whisper, aware of the other people in the room. "Will, I can feel her kicking!"

He matches my smile. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! Wait." I sit on the bench beside him so the piano blocks the visibility from our chests down, just incase someone happens to see. For good measure, I prop my elbow up and turn my back toward the risers.

"Oh my god," he laughs, feeling my abdomen. A sense of pride surges through me, partly because I know for a fact that his ex-wife did not give him this experience.

After a brief moment, I clear my throat and we resume our inconspicuous-looking position on the piano bench. "But I really think this arrangement would add to our setlist for Regionals," I say loudly, giving Will a playful wink.

He only chuckles. "I love you," he tells me.

For the remainder of the period, I somehow insert myself into Kurt and Tina's conversation about men's fashion from the 1970's. Then finally, after painstakingly watching the clock tick by, the bell rings. I feel light with anticipation.

"Have a good weekend, Mr. Schue," calls Artie, as he wheels out into the hallway.

"You too."

The choir room door shuts behind him with a satisfying click. I give Will a knowing look.

"So? What is it?"

He exhales. "Rach, I just want you to know that I've really thought this through, and I'm thinking that this is our only-"

"What?" He's starting to worry me. His hand runs down my arm and catches at my wrist, and his other rests on my shoulder.

"Rach, baby, we're going away."

-/-


	27. Chapter 27

-/-

"We're _what?_ "

Will sighs. "Here, let's sit down for a second," he says, gesturing to the risers.

"Go away, as in, _run_ away?" I ask incredulously. "You're asking me to go on the run with you? Like a fugitive?!"

"Just let me explain," he begs, "I have it all planned out. There's this place in Tennessee I used to go to as a kid-"

" _Tennessee?!_ "

"My aunt used to live there," he furthers. "And anyway, there was this abandoned cabin hidden away in the woods behind her house. Me and my cousins used to hang out there all the time."

I gape at him. "A cabin?! This is your master plan, our only option, to go hide out in the middle of the wilderness? In a _cabin?!_ "

"I know, I know," he relents. "But just listen to me, Rach. We need to get away somewhere for a little while, and this is the only place where we can stay completely undetected. We just can't roam around the country without someone picking up on it. If we're gonna go away, this is the only place we can do it."

"Will, who ever said anything about going away?" I exclaim. "This is the first I'm hearing of it, you never even asked me if I wanted to go in the first place! What about my life here? My family? Hell, this baby's coming on July 3rd, what do you expect me to do? Go squat out in the woods and give birth like some caveman?!"

"No," he says. "There's a town nearby. Look, I figure I can get us some fake , and when the time comes-"

"No!"

He looks surprised at the forceful way I say this. "What?"

"No, Will!" I continue. "This is absolutely crazy! Do you honestly think you could even come close to pulling this off, without being arrested?"

"Yes!" he pleads. "I have everything planned out, Rachel. Your parents won't be back until Sunday night, that gives us more than a 48 hour head start before an Amber Alert goes out."

Amber Alert?! "I have to sit down," I mumble, pressing two fingers to my forehead. I feel a killer headache coming on.

"I'll change the license plates on my car so people won't know," he goes on. "We'll have to change our appearances, too. Maybe dye our hair. I'll go down to the bank tonight and withdraw as much money as I can, and we'll load up the car and leave."

"This is crazy!"

"Crazy enough to work," he replies. I throw my hands up frustratedly.

"No, Will," I repeat. "This is crazy! Is running away together even necessary? Is it really the first thing we should jump to?"

"Rachel- I was caught. Staying here means one of two options, turning myself in or waiting for the police to come get me," he says. "It's over. And the only way we could possibly stay together is...this."

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

"Okay, so say we do make it to the cabin," I say after awhile. "Then what? I have needs! I need two showers a day to function, Will! I need air-conditioning! And electricity!"

"It's not so bad," he tries. "There's an old bathtub in the cabin and a well out back, so it's not like we can't bathe. And I'm pretty sure my cousins hooked up a lantern to the ceiling. We used to spend the night in there all the time, it's perfectly functional."

"Will, how do you even know if the cabin's still there?" I ask.

"Well, it was five years ago when my aunt moved back to Ohio," he says. "I don't think anyone could find it, let alone tear it down. C'mon, It'll be perfect for us!"

"Perfect?! Out of all the words in the English dictionary, and you use 'perfect'!" I say flatly. "Will, this sounds horrible for me! I am not an outdoorsy person! And aside from the cabin, how are we supposed to get food? Neither of us can hunt, and besides, I'm vegan!"

"The town, like I said," he tells me. "It's right outside Oakdale, which is a small enough town nobody will recognize us when we have to go in. There's stores and a hospital somewhere in that general area."

I stare at him. "So your planned, thought-out idea is for us to completely leave our lives behind, turn me into a face on milk cartons, and live in some dirty old shack in Tennessee with a newborn baby like a couple of, of hillbillies?! _That's_ your plan?!"

"It will only be temporary!" he promises. "We'll only have to live there until everything cools down. I'll find a way to get us false identification, I'll get a job after awhile, and you can stay home with the baby until people aren't hunting us down anymore. Then we'll go up to New York and blend right in, there are millions of people there. It's where you always wanted to end up anyway."

"What about school?" I ask. "I don't want a high school sophomore education! I want to go to college!"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh please, Rachel, you have more education than most seniors at McKinley. And as for college...baby, that's just one of the things we have to compromise. Take it from me, college isn't all that great anyway. You won't be missing out on anything."

"That's not the point," I retort. He sighs.

"A college education is overrated, and I know for a fact that it'll be the last thing on your mind after you've been playing house for awhile. Girls like doing that, don't they?"

I scoff, crossing my arms. "Girls who only aspire to be a housewife."

"Rach, Rach," he chides. "Trust me on this, we are going to be so happy. This is our one chance to be together as a family."

"What about my parents?" I remind him.

He presses his lips together. "Honey, what parents?"

 _Ouch_. I know things are bad right now, but I can't imagine never seeing my parents again! "Will, this doesn't sound like a good idea. I don't think it'll work," I argue.

He raises his hand to touch my cheek. "Of course it will," he says firmly. "Plenty of people live off the grid. Just think about it, how happy we could be. We can fix up that cabin, make it into a home, and we can finally be a family. Just us and our baby girl. Don't you want her to have a family? A father?"

My throat feels raw. "Will..." I start, "this is just...unbelievable. How can you expect me to just leave behind everything I've ever known? To never see my family or friends again?"

"Baby, there's nothing left for you here," he says softly. "And nothing left for me. I think this is what we need, both of us. We need to start a new, beautiful life together and this is the only way we can do that. I know this isn't ideal. But all good things in life have to come with a little compromise. You know if we stay here it's all over. It's either Lima, or me."

I taste salty tears on my upper lip. "Will, I can't just. How am I supposed to choose between you and everything else in my life?"

"I'm sorry," he says, taking my hand into his comfortingly. "This is the only way you can be with me, you know it. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but sometimes things happen for a reason. And I swear to you Rachel...I am going to make you _so_ happy. Just leave everything to me, I'll take care of you."

I swallow back a sob. "Will, we have bigger things to worry about than our own personal happiness. How are we supposed to raise this baby with no money, no insurance, and being... _wanted_ , on top of it all?"

"I just explained that," he says. "And we'll figure it out along the way. Look, you said it yourself, a girl needs her dad. Well, this is the only way she's going to have one."

Oh my god. This is crazy, this completely insane. I rub at my damp eyes, being pulled into the crook of his arm. "I'm so scared, Will," I whisper. He kisses my hair.

"Don't be."

-/-

"Will?" I call, closing the door of his apartment behind me. "With my bags and the groceries, there isn't going to be room for much else. What all have you packed?"

Will comes around the corner, a medium-sized suitcase in each hand. He sets them on the ground beside the doorway and gestures to the kitchen. "These are all my things," he says. "And I have a few boxes in there with some blankets, cooking ware, flashlights, first-aid...just some basic things we'll need in the cabin."

I sigh restlessly. "God Will, you're making it sound like we're going camping or something." He laughs.

"Well...I guess we are," Will says, rubbing my back. "Just for an extended period of time."

"So is that everything?" I ask him.

"Almost," he answers. "I have to go switch out my plates and then we'll load the rest, and stop at the bank on the way. You only bought non-perishables, right?"

I nod silently. How can he be so calm and casual at a time like this?

"Shit," he says suddenly. "I forgot to tell you to get hair dye. Oh well, we'll worry about that later. It'll be awhile before people will be looking for us anyway. And I have a buzzer and scissors in my bag."

I look at him skeptically. "And what exactly are you planning to do?"

For the first time, he grins impishly. "Shave my head. I haven't done it since junior high."

"What about me?"

He shrugs. "We'll figure something out."

Well if it has to do with cutting or bleaching it, I'm not game. I take great pride in my hair. Technically speaking it's 'virgin' hair, never been dyed or permed, and I'd like to keep it that way. It's the only virgin part left of me.

Will hands me a box from the kitchen before he lifts his suitcases again. We head out to load them up into the car, and as I shift my weight with the awkward box, I glance at my wristwatch. It's a little past 5:30, which leaves us a couple hours of daylight. Walking down the cement stairs, I'm still not so sure about this. Isn't this plan insane? I mean, Will seems to have thought of everything, but something is surely bound to go wrong. It leaves an uneasy feeling in my chest.

"Where'd you get the plates?" I ask him, watching him kneel down to unscrew the rightful ones.

"They're from my first car I had in high school," he says. "I always kept them kind of as a souvenir, but I never thought they'd come in handy."

My brow furrows. "How long is it to Oakdale?"

"About six hours."

"So are we going to sleep in the car?" I ask. "I can't imagine wandering through the woods at midnight trying to find some hidden cabin."

He shakes his head, prying a plate off. "We'll just rent a motel room halfway there. Nobody will be looking for us in a few hours, and by the time they think to pull up records of our stay, we'll be long gone and no one will know which way we went."

I lean back against the car. "You sure have a plan for everything. It's hard to believe this idea was on whim."

"I do have a plan for everything," he smiles. He stands up from his position on the ground and comes to me, letting a hand rest on my abdomen. "That's why you should trust me. I will go to the ends of the earth to take care of you. I love you."

Will leans in and kisses me gently. For some reason, as I'm standing here wrapped in his arms, carrying his child, I can't help but think back to the beginning of the year. I used to dream and fantasize about kissing him like this. I used to try out the name 'Rachel Barbra Schuester' in my head, wonder if we would make adorable children. Of course, I find this incredibly ironic now. Especially due to the way we got to this point, which now seems like forever ago.

Like he said in glee club today, it's been a long year. It's always strange to stand on that metaphorical mountaintop and look back to where it all began, recall everything that's happened along the way. And right now, although I'm incredibly unsure about what will happen next, I feel safe in Will's arms.

Maybe all of the turmoil and obstacles I've faced happened for a reason, maybe it was them leading me to this point.

Maybe this is my destiny.

-/-


	28. Chapter 28

-/-

When I was little, there was a particular feeling I got if I stepped out in the middle of my neighborhood street. I wasn't allowed to go into the street, but if a ball happened to roll out of my grasp and I was left no choice, I did.

It's a strange feeling to stand in a forbidden place.

Much like it feels to be running away from home.

"Let's stop here," Will mumbles, turning into the parking lot of a place called Starlite Motel. I drowsily look around, just now waking from a dreamless sleep.

"Where are we?"

"Richmond, Kentucky," he answers.

The car pulls into a spot with a jolt. Yawning, I open my door to get out and stretch my stiff arms. Will comes to me.

"I think it'd be best if we just slept in our clothes tonight," he says. "It would be a hassle to unpack everything and I want to be able to just get up and go in the morning."

I frown. "But I have to take a shower," I protest. "This is our last chance to utilize indoor plumbing." He sighs.

"Fine. You can get our suitcases out and I'll go get a room."

I'm taken aback by the irritated tone in his voice, but I brush it off. We're literally fugitives, it's no wonder he's on-edge.

He's walking into the main office as I pop the trunk. Each step kicks up a dusty cloud of dirt, and looking around, I see that the entire road behind me is of the same surface. It twists back into the distance, lined with tall evergreens, and I wonder how close to Richmond, Kentucky we really are.

The building in particular makes me wrinkle my nose. Five small rooms lined up under a decaying porch roof, the staccato walls painted a sickly seafoam green. A separate building, the main office, looks newer than the motel, like it's been renovated recently. Renovated tackily, however, due to the cheap fake paneling plastered to the outer walls. A tall pole stands next to it, bearing a painted 50's style sign that reads its name.

I yank out our suitcases with a grunt, letting them land on the ground before I pick up the handles. Soon, Will is outside again, and he takes his from my hand.

"Room 2," he tells me. "I had to show I.D but we should be long gone before they realize anything."

We walk up to the rusty-looking door of Room 2, a cool night breeze making me shiver. Will sticks the key in and the door opens; I step inside to observe.

"It's...cozy," I attempt, trying to suppress my mortification. Normally, I would immediately start pointing out all of the flaws and demand to find another motel, but I sense that Will is not in a mood to be subject.

It's awful. The room is filled with a horrible garage-sale mustiness, and it's tiny. There's hardly any room to fit the terribly dated four-poster which the door opens up to. A cheap picture frame hangs above it crookedly, and they both face a weathered bureau. Sitting on it is an ancient black tube TV, probably as old as me, the entire lot covered in dust. Beyond the left side of the bed is a small counter with a sink and a grimy mirror above it. There's another door adjacently which must be the bathroom.

We drop our suitcases against the wall beside the bed, and I sit on it tiredly. "You can go get in the shower first," I tell him. "I'll take longer than you."

"Huh," he grins. "I figured it was because you want me to kill all the spiders before you get in."

I smile, genuinely. "That too," I tease, thankful for the first spot of levitivity all night. As he heads into the bathroom, I kick off my pink tennis shoes and grab the TV remote. It turns on with a staticky click to some low-budget news broadcast.

I sigh, leaning over to grab the half-empty water bottle from my duffle bag. My innate connection with thirst and sadness has no exception for tonight. Not that I'm all that sad. Try, terrified.

"We have new information on Ohio Amber Alert case Rachel Berry-"

Major spit take.

"The missing sixteen year-old who is entering her third trimester of pregnancy, is now believed to be taken by her teacher William Schuester."

My heart is pounding. Oh my god! No, no, no!

"An anonymous source alerted police shortly after the Amber Alert was issued just three hours ago, that the two had supposedly been in a romantic relationship. When authorities tried to reach Schuester, he and his vehicle were nowhere to be found and Berry's car and cell phone were discovered at his place of residence. Now Schuester is officially registered as a wanted man in Ohio. He is 6'0 and 180 lbs with blonde hair and green eyes. His vehicle is a 2002 Honda Accord with Ohio plates 976-ZPT. Berry is 5'2 with brown hair and eyes. She is also six months pregnant and there is no word on the paternity of her unborn child."

"Yes, and normally we wouldn't report out of state Amber Alerts," the second newscaster says. "But this case is...pretty bizarre, wouldn't you say, Brenda?"

Brenda nods. "In just three short hours, this has managed to grab much attention. If you have any tips or leads, or spot the 2002 Honda Accord with plates 976-ZPT, call the Ohio Bureau of Investigation at 1-800-518-0502. Now let's take a look at the house fire on Second Street-"

"Will-" I start to shriek, but he's already standing in the threshold of the bathroom.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Rachel, you said your parents weren't coming back until-"

"They weren't!" I cry. "I don't know what happened, I-"

I stop suddenly, remembering something. The sinking feeling makes me nauseous. "What?" he demands.

"Oh god, the neighbors," I groan, pressing a hand to my face. "My dads told them to keep an eye on me, they must've seen me leave and called!"

God, he must be so mad at me! I'm afraid at what he'll do next, but then he simply sits on the bed and sighs deeply.

"I'm so sor-"

"Save it," he cuts off. "It was going to happen sooner or later. Now we just don't have as much time."

"What are we going to do?" I ask, on the verge of wailing. He looks at me, his eyes very intense and very green.

"We need to change our appearances, first," he says. "I'll shave my head and grow out a beard, and wear a hat and sunglasses. I'll look like any other native around here. Then for you, we can cut your hair and bleach it."

"What?!" I holler. "No, Will! No!"

"Look," he says, "do you want to stay hidden or not? They're looking for a young, pregnant brunette and we can't change the first two things!"

"Well, I-"

"You stay here," he interrupts. "Keep the news on, don't let anyone in. I'll find a Walmart and get the stuff, I'll be right back."

Like a flash, he's yanking his shoes back on and grabbing his keys.

"Wait a minute! Wait, Will!" I cry helplessly. "What if you don't come back?"

This stops him; his expression softens. "I'll be... _right_ back," he repeats. He grabs my face with two hands and kisses me, rushed but tenderly.

Just like that, he's gone and there's no sound but the hum of the television. It's a strange feeling when you say goodbye to someone you're not sure you'll ever see again.

-/-

"Rach, stop crying, it looks fine."

Sniffling, I run a shaking hand through the choppy cut and it feels like chalk. My eyes sting from the smell.

"My...my hair," I sob, seeing my soft, hazelnut tendrils sprawled across the dingy sink.

"Baby, it's just hair," he tries. "It'll grow back."

I catch a glimpse of my pathetic appearance in the mirror. My hair- or what's left of it- hangs limply in front of my face. It's barely longer than my jaw, the bangs I attempted to cut are as uneven as the rest. The color, however, is worse than it all. Blonde my ass. It looks like the color of a rusty yellow bike.

I flip it over and shake a towel through it, attempting to dry and fluff it. "It looks horrible," I mumble.

Will chuckles. "Mine looks worse."

No it doesn't. He just looks strange with a shaved head, that's all. Besides, now Sue Sylvester has nothing to make fun of him about. Well, I take that back.

I cast the towel away in disgust and crawl into bed beside him. "Has anything else come on the news?" I ask.

Will shakes his head, sliding an arm around my middle. "Jesus, I can't imagine what everyone back home must be thinking. The glee club must be in mass hysteria."

I haven't thought much about my peers tonight, but my dads. God, I feel awful for putting them through this. Not knowing if you'll ever again see your child, let alone only child along with your only grandchild, after you left them on bad terms... But this is what I have to do. And it's the only way I can give my daughter a true family.

"Quinn," I say suddenly. "She must've been the anonymous source. But I wonder if that boy in the hall will end up saying anything."

"Oh, he will," Will sighs. "And so will a dozen other people making up little things to get attention. But all the rumors and lies won't matter to us once we get there, and finally get to be a happy little family, away from the rest of the world." He kisses the corner of my mouth, but I shrug away.

"And that means Quinn had to tell the police about the baby," I continue. "About...about how she was conceived."

I see him swallow. "Well. Yeah, I guess. What are you getting at?"

I shake my head. "It's just. My parents...they had no idea about any of this. When they find out what happened...I don't know. I just feel bad about doing this to them."

"Well you shouldn't," he says. "It's their own fault for not paying any attention to you."

"I know, it's just-"

"Stop." His index finger presses gently against my mouth. "Baby, we need to leave the past in the past. That's the whole point of this, remember? We can't move forward if we're dwelling on the things we left behind. This is our chance to start anew, forget about all the pain and be happy together. And if you want to be happy, you're gonna have to stop thinking about your parents."

He shuts the TV off. We settle back into the bed, his arms wrapped around me. The same arms, I can't help but think, that are capable of hurting me at the same time- _no_. No. I shouldn't be thinking like this anymore. I can't afford to.

I guess it was easier to feel safe with him when I had somewhere to go home to.

-/-


	29. Chapter 29

-/-

"Rach, sweetheart, come on."

My eyes open. The room is blanketed in darkness; groggily twisting my head, I look for my alarm clock but it isn't there. The bed sheets that lay against my skin feel coarse and unfamiliar, why- oh. Right.

"Come on, baby, we gotta go."

Suddenly I see Will's face, I feel his strong hands on my shoulders. How long has he been there?

"Huh?" I mumble drowsily. Then there's pressure on my arms, forcing me to sit up.

"You just need to get your shoes and get in the car," he whispers, "I already loaded everything back up, don't worry."

This alarms me. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," he assures. "I just have a bad feeling and I think we need to leave."

I rub at my eyes, shoving my bare feet into tennis shoes. Will is watching me anxiously, which makes me somewhat suspicious. "What time is it?" I ask.

"About three in the morning."

I scuffle uncomfortably out the door, trying to adjust my feet, and he follows behind. "Jeez, Will," I grumble. "I know we're fugitives and all, but would it really set us back to get a decent amount of sleep?"

"You can sleep in the car."

I get in the passenger seat, shivering. The interior of the car is cold from being outside all night, and I'm only wearing a ratty t-shirt with shorts. I think Will notices because he turns on the heat.

Half-asleep, I rest my head against the seat and just watch him. It's odd. Maybe it's my drowsiness or maybe it's the situation, but he looks ten years older. His face is illuminated only by the car's headlights, shadows enhancing the contour of his cheeks and jaw. His hair, now absent of the curly locks, is buzzed short at the nape of his neck. There's an intensity about him, somewhere in the corner of his eyes and the crease in his forehead. I'm not sure why it makes me uncomfortable.

"It's more than a bad feeling, isn't it?" I ask quietly. "What happened?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I just...I'm really paranoid. It's not a good idea to stay in a place for too long. Especially this close to home."

"Hey...if we don't have computers or anything, how are we supposed to stay ahead of the authorities?" I ask.

"I thought of that," he says. "I'm gonna stop at the Kum & Go up here and get us something to eat, and I'm pretty sure they have Trac Phones. Those can get on the internet, right?"

"Yeah," I answer. "But connecting to the internet racks it up fast, like any phone would."

He nods. "That's fine. News stations usually have articles on their website, we might be able to see updates. And they can't track gas station phones."

We pull into the parking lot. Will shoves a baseball cap over his newly bare head along with an old pair of sunglasses. "I'll be right back," he says.

I watch him walk into the convenience store, seeing a bored-looking woman at the counter. I wonder if she's heard about us. And if she has, surely she wouldn't recognize Will, right?

I yank down the sun visor and flip up the mirror. I had almost forgotten about my hair. God, it's short. And from sleeping the ends are splayed out a little, which looks stupid. But the color has not gotten better, and although it was just washed, it looks greasy. This, plus my having to skip my skin care routine, makes me feel especially grimy. The hair _does_ give me an edgy look, I suppose.

Through the windshield I see Will now at the counter. The lady's saying something, but he's ducking his head and pulling out cash. Oh no. What if she _does_ recognize him?

After what seems like an eternity, he finally takes the plastic bag and pushes through the doors.

"What was she saying to you?" I ask.

He chuckles. "What the hell I was doing at Kum & Go at three in the morning. Guess she didn't take me as the trucker type."

"What did you say?"

"Road trip."

I sink down into the seat, putting my knees up against the dashboard and resting my head against the window. "Will? How much money were you able to withdraw from the bank?"

"Well," he starts, "with everything I got from there and what I had at home, we have about...$4,500."

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you going to get a job if you're, like, _wanted?_ "

He sighs. "Well first, we'll have to wait for everything to die down. There's a town about half an hour from Oakdale, it's full of illegal immigrants working at the meat processing plant. I'll find a way to get the papers from someone over there."

"Where are you going to work at?"

"Oh, I'll find something," he mutters. Then he reaches into the plastic sack and tosses me a plastic container. "Here. Eat this."

It's potato wedges. "I can't eat this," I say. "It has cheese on it. Besides, potatoes are full of carbs."

Will laughs lowly. "Rach, you're gonna have to give up this vegan shit. Food's gonna be a luxury as it is."

"I won't eat it," I argue.

"Rachel, eat the damn potatoes."

"No."

He looks over at me pointedly. "Do you really wanna make an issue out of this? Just eat your food."

"I am carrying your child, Will," I continue loudly. "How is our daughter supposed to get nutrients if my diet consists of junk food and canned vegetables?"

"What the hell did you expect?" he exclaims. "Gourmet vegan entrees just magically appearing in the middle of the woods?"

"I expected that you would support my beliefs and lifestyle," I retort. "But obviously you don't care about me enough to do that!"

"What the- Rachel, I am literally risking incarceration for the rest of my life to be with you! And I don't care about you?!" He slams his hand against the steering wheel, making me jump. "That's such bullshit!"

"Sorry," I whisper ashamedly. "I didn't mean it."

"Don't you ever go and say something like that again," he says sharply. "You hear?"

"Yes," I mumble. He exhales, shaking his head, and adjusts his grip on the wheel.

"But I'm still not eating the potatoes."

-/-

I groan. "Will, we've been driving around for fifteen minutes, are you sure it's here?"

His mouth opens to reply, but I see his eyes fixate on something. "There, there it is."

I peer ahead through the windshield. Down the winding trail that we're on, there's a dark mass hidden by some brush. As we get closer, it slowly takes shape into what is indeed a cabin. We pull up onto the small dirt parkway, and my eyes rake over it.

"You stay here," Will tells me, hopping out to inspect the door.

Well, it's not as tiny as I imagined it, but it is small. And when Will said cabin, I immediately assumed it'd be erected of logs, but this is actually just planked siding. The door, a weathered yet sturdy looking one, appears to be boarded shut and Will is attempting to open it. Beside the door is a small window, through which I can make out another one on the opposite wall. And finally the roof, tin, appears to be in habitable condition. I'm still definitely not thrilled about living here, but I am...pleasantly surprised. Mostly because I was expecting something along the lines of what they had in _Little House On The Prairie_.

With a crack, Will pulls the door open. He turns to me, holding up his hand to tell me to stay here. Then he disappears into the darkness.

I roll down my window. "What's in there?" I yell.

A moment later, he reappears and goes to open the backseat door, grabbing the broom. "A dead mouse, some animal poop, and a lot of spiders. You probably want to stay here until I get them out."

Ewww. Poop? A dead mouse? I have to live in these conditions?! I warily watch him return into the cabin.

"Well, what else?" I ask. "Is it...decent, otherwise?"

"Oh, sure!"

He sounds a little too optimistic to be believable. I shudder as he tosses the dead mouse out into the grass.

"Is there any furniture?"

"Well," he starts, "there's a wood burning stove, so we won't have to worry about heat or cooking. And there's a bed frame with a plastic mattress on it. But we'll have to really make sure it's safe before we sleep on it or anything. Oh, here's the bathtub."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why is there a bathtub if there's no plumbing?"

"Oh, there's plumbing," he says. "It's just been shut off for about forty years. The foreman for my aunt's neighbor's property used to live here. There's no toilet though, I think he had an outhouse somewhere. But there's a water pump out back, we'll be fine."

Ugh. I hadn't thought about that aspect. I am really not looking forward to doing my business in the woods. Or not having water at my disposal.

"How are we supposed to see anything?"

Will's sweeping some sort of feces out the door. "I bought some kerosene lamps at the Menards," he says.

Damn, I was wrong. I guess we are living like pioneers. Will returns to the car again. "Alright," he smiles. "Let's bring everything in."

I reach behind the seat, taking a box, and I hurry out of the car and inside to look. "Ugh," I grimace. "It stinks in here."

"Well, lucky for you I thought to buy Febreeze," he grins, handing me an aerosol can. I promptly drench the air with it in disgust.

The cabin is a single room, the stove in one corner and a queen-sized bed frame in another. The plastic mattress Will was referring to lies atop it, but it doesn't look like a regular mattress. It's very skimpy and encased completely in a thick plasticky-cloth of some sort. But it doesn't appear to have any way of taking the cover off, so I hope it'll be good. If I went to sleep on top of dead animal that had burrowed into the stuffing, I don't think I could live through it.

The bathtub, an old clawfoot, sits on the wall of the door under the window. It looks dingy and I approach it to get a better look. "Will!" I gasp. "This is filled with beer cans!"

This elicits laughter from him. "I told you I used to hang out here with my cousins," he smirks. I roll my eyes.

"Well then you can be the one to clean up your mess."

I retrieve the grocery bags of canned foods I bought and place them beside the stove, organizing the cans and stacking them. I hear Will behind me disposing of the beer. Through the window, I can see the sun coming up and the blue smoky mountains. The sight is beautiful, but for some reason it makes me feel so...lonely. I'm so far away from everything, let alone Lima. My parents must be a total mess right now. Quinn...I bet she feels guilty because she knew about us. And everyone else is completely shocked, I'm sure. Jacob Ben Israel is probably writing all sorts of things on his blog at this very moment.

While I know this is obviously shocking, I wonder if anyone is actually worried about me. Everyone hated me before I left and it's no different now, I assume. They're probably just calling me a whore and gossiping. But, what's new?

I glance out the window again and another pang of loneliness hits me. God, this is real. We made it, we're really here in Oakdale and I'll be here for the rest of my life. I'll never go to Juilliard. I'll never go to a college party, or have a college dorm, or have a college boyfriend. I'll never be on Broadway, I won't even get the chance to try. I just...I can't believe I just gave up everything I've ever been passionate about. Was I really that quick to throw away my dreams?

"Baby, why are you crying?" I hear Will, a gentle tone in his voice. I'm- oh. I guess I am.

He kneels down beside me, wrapping his arms around my chest from behind. And I'm not up to another argument this morning. I sniffle, managing a smile.

"I'm just- I'm just so happy that we can finally be a family."

-/-


	30. Chapter 30

-/-

"In a press conference yesterday, Berry's parents, two gay men, and her close friend Quinn Fabray pled for her return shown in the video above. Fabray is the only confirmed individual who had knowledge of the relationship prior to the kidnapping. She is also the source who informed police that Berry was raped by Schuester back in October 2009, and her unborn child is the product of it. Fabray claims that Schuester was somehow able to groom and manipulate the girl even after the rape happened until she consented to be in a relationship. She quotes, 'I knew Rachel had been raped, and that it was by an older man that she'd had a crush on for awhile, but she wouldn't tell me more than that. I finally found out who when I caught them together after they started the relationship. I was completely devastated, because Mr. Schue was also my teacher and I felt he was someone I could really trust. But Rachel made me swear to secrecy, and now obviously I'm really regretting it.' Fabray, who is pregnant as well, befriended Rachel through the glee club Schuester directed. She claims that a major reason why Berry began a relationship with her rapist is because of their unborn daughter together. Fabray also claims that-"

"You can stop there," Will mumbles.

I sigh, shutting off the phone. "Well at least everyone thinks we're in Mexico," I attempt. "And a nationwide Amber Alert isn't all that effective when we're literally out in the middle of nowhere."

He shakes his head, dismissing the topic, and stands from the floor. "Go ahead and use the last of the wood, and put something on for dinner. I'll go out and get more."

I do as he says, loading the last of the kindling into the stove and I light it. Then I empty one of our only cans of baked beans into a pan. We've only been here a week, and our food supply is already dwindling.

The past seven days have been hard. Nay, miserable. Thankfully the water pump still works, but it's such an ordeal to have to make trips back and forth just to wash dishes, let alone bathe. This process has cut back on our cleanliness and I feel completely gross. I've managed to tidy up the cabin tremendously, though. I think the most unpleasant thing right now is being hungry. We've rationed our food to two cans a day, one for breakfast and dinner, and a half cup of rice, between us. I'm kicking myself for not buying more of it when I had the chance. We did bring other food items that Will had in his apartment, like crackers and small things, but those ran out quickly. I just hope that he can find a way to get more of it soon. I can't help but think that when he was talking about us being a 'happy little family', he didn't mention we'd be on the brink of starvation.

"You don't believe all that bullshit, do you?" Will asks, dropping a pile of kindling against the wall. "About me manipulating you and stuff? Cause you know you wanted this just as much as me, that was all you."

"I know," I reply softly.

"Good."

I dump some rice into the pan as he leaves again. God. There are moments now when I'm looking at him, and I don't recognize the man before me. Where are the boyish curls, the soft sweater vests, show tunes and Journey and romantic dates? All I see now is a stranger with a bushy beard, military haircut, and raggedy old clothes. There's something off about his demeanor, too. He seems so tense, and I don't like it. But I suppose I'm not one to talk. When I look in the mirror I don't recognize myself, either.

I am now a nationwide Amber Alert. I always wanted to be famous, but not like this! The whole country knows about the rape, the baby, our relationship, everything. They ended up finding out about the motel we stayed at, so our last known whereabouts is in Richmond. I wonder if any of Will's family suspects this place, since they know we were in Kentucky. Ugh. Normally, I'd enjoy such dramatic attention, but now I just feel...ashamed.

I hear him come back through the door without having to look behind me. "Will? We're kind of running low on food."

He comes up to the stove, glancing at our makeshift cabinet on the floor. "Okay. Then cut it down to one can and a 1/4 cup of rice."

I turn completely around, bewilderedly. "Will, are you crazy? We're barely getting by with that serving twice a day! What we need is more food."

"Well we can't get more food until everything settles down," he returns stiffly. "Our faces are being projected all over the country as it is, and Oakdale's the kind of town where gossip gets around fast. Two strangers just waltzing into the corner store, who just so happen to resemble the nationwide Amber Alert, is gonna raise some flags. So let's wait another week or so, and until then we'll do one can with a 1/4."

"Will," I resume loudly, "I am six months pregnant, I cannot survive on 100 calories a day! Do you want your child to starve to death?"

"Fine," he snaps. "Have mine too, I just won't eat!"

"Will, you're being ridiculous," I tell him.

"I'm being ridiculous? You're the one who wants me to blow our whole plan and get us discovered!" he argues. I gasp.

"All I want is for you to get food, so that maybe we won't starve!" I yell. "You're supposed to be the provider, so provide! Or is that too much for you to handle?"

In one instant, a shocking sting ripples across my face, the sound resonating in my ears, and the force makes me fall to the ground.

Oh.

My.

God.

Will's mouth gapes open and he steps back in surprise. "N- god, Rach, I didn't mean-"

"You said you were going to take care of me!" I sob, cradling my afflicted cheek. "You promised!"

"Rach-"

Weeping and still recovering from the shock, I run outside and collapse against the sturdy wall of the cabin.

-/-

"Baby, you know I didn't mean to," Will pleads. "Please come back inside, it's getting dark out."

"You stay right where you are," I demand, sitting against the door so it can't be opened.

I haven't stopped crying yet.

He hit me! He actually fucking hit me! This is my worst nightmare, this is exactly what I've feared since being alone with him! Who hits their pregnant girlfriend?! Who hits their girlfriend in general?! Why was that his immediate action; we hadn't even been arguing that long and bam! He hits me! Will hit me! Why would Will fucking hit me?!

"I'm so sorry, Rachel!" he calls. "It's just...I'm so stressed with everything going on, I didn't mean to! I was just pushed over the edge, that's all. I would never hurt you, you know that. I love you. I love you so much, Rachel, just please come back in."

"You hit me, Will!" I cry. "I'm supposed to trust you and you hit me!"

"Baby, I told you, I didn't mean it!" he repeats. "I don't know what made me do it, but I will never ever hit you like that again. Rachel, I'm so sorry."

I sniffle, slowly getting up from my position. I don't want to go back inside, but I really have no choice.

"Hey..." Will says softly, pulling me against him in a hug. I tentatively return it.

"I'm still mad," I murmur against his shoulder.

"I know. I'm sorry."

I break out of the embrace and silently return to the stove, where I pour the food into two bowls. I give one to him and take the other, electing to sit in the opposite corner of the room. "You know, I'm starting to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I say flatly, still feeling the sting on my face.

"Rach, you're just gonna have to be patient," Will says. "I know things are hard right now, but if we just stick it out for awhile longer then we'll be fine."

I say nothing to this and eat my rice and beans in silence. My growling stomach lurches in gratitude.

How does he know that? What if he waits too long to get the food and we end up dying? What if he hits me again and I need medical attention? What if the lack of food and healthiness makes the baby disabled, or worse, kills it?

I glance up at him, standing against the wall and eating his dinner. With him, I somehow thought that he'd manage to fix everything. That maybe we'd be scraping by, but at the end of the day we'd have everything we need. Now I'm not so confident. Looking around at the shack, only by the light of kerosene lamps, I feel so unsure of myself. Of Will. It seems like everything is going wrong!

I stare at the interior of my now-empty bowl. God. This isn't what I wanted at all.

-/-


	31. Chapter 31

-/-

My eyes are burning, staring at the ceiling in the darkness as the sound of rain echoes in the room.

I can't sleep, not with this gnawing emptiness in my stomach. I have to wait two more days before Will goes to the store, _two more days_ I have to stick it out. We're down to our final morsels of food. We've resorted to eating acorns and grass during the day before dinner, but they don't do much and taste awful. Acorns and grass! I may as well be a squirrel! I never thought I'd say this, and I'm ashamed I am, but I could really go for a hamburger right now. I'm starting to see spots in my vision, my head aches all the time.

Besides our impending starvation, things have been tense since Will hit me. Just...awkward. We don't talk all that much, and it seems as if we're just tip-toeing around each other. I'm counting on the trip to the store to make everything better again. Food equals happiness, right?

In the stillness, I hear him exhale. "Rach?" he whispers. "Are you awake?"

"Yes."

He turns over from his side, facing me and pulling me in closer to him. "I'm sorry, baby," he says, kissing my cheek. "For all this."

"It's okay."

His lips move to my mouth and he kisses me sweetly. I settle into it, letting my arms rest around his back as he hovers over me, the kiss deepening. I hear small noises coming from his throat; his hands trail down from my shoulders and steal under my t-shirt.

"Will," I murmur, squirming as he touches my breasts.

"You're so beautiful, Rach," he mumbles against my collarbone. "So beautiful."

I'm just beginning to tolerate the groping when his hands begin moving again, resting at my hips and his fingers latching under my waistband. My breath catches.

"Will, no," I tell him, removing my hands from his back to stop his. This proves useless when he nudges them away. Oh no.

"C'mon baby," he whispers. I gasp as he touches me down there.

"Will, stop it!" I cry. "I don't want to! Stop it!"

I try hitting his shoulders, pushing him away but it's not working. His hips are grinding against mine, still kissing me, and his whole weight is keeping me down against the bed. "Relax, Rach, it's gonna be fine," he pleads. "Calm down. It's okay."

My shorts and underwear are now down around my knees, and I'm starting to cry helplessly. My breath is hitched and fast. Oh, please don't let him do this again! Please, God! Please don't let this happen again!

"No, Will, no!" I sob. "Stop!"

The room is spinning. I have a bad, bad feeling in my gut; something familiar but not quite. I'm gasping for air, bucking against him and I think I'm screaming but I'm not sure.

"Rach, stop it!" he says, muffled by the hard kiss that follows. The strength in my legs gives out, they fall open under his force, and a pang of helplessness surges through my body.

"Don't, Will! Don't!" I'm sobbing incoherently, over and over.

"Baby, you're fine," he grunts. "It'll all be fine."

Thunder crackles overhead, the pattering of raindrops getting louder and louder on the noisy tin roof. The sound and the stress is overwhelming, shooting my panic up and I want to scream! I want to scream so bad but I can't, my mouth won't open! This is all like a horrible nightmare, where my legs won't move and my lungs won't make a noise!

Somehow through this madness I hear Quinn's voice, I hear a conversation from long ago about Noah and summer and wine coolers. _"I just stared at the ceiling and waited for him to finish," she had told me. "I counted the stripes on my wall, listened to the mower outside."_

I'm still sobbing but I know there's no getting out of this, I know this is what I have to do. Listen to the rain, Rachel! Listen to the-

"Agh!" I scream out in pain. No, no! Stop crying, Rachel, stop!

My breathing is more like hyperventilating, but it's slowing and I fix my eyes on the ceiling numbly. Listen to the rain, Rachel.

His actions are speeding up now, staccato with the pattern on the roof, on the windows. I choke back more tears.

Listen to the rain.

-/-

He wasn't even drunk.

These four words have been echoing in my head for half an hour. Has it been that long? Maybe forty-five minutes. I can't tell. I've lost track of time.

He wasn't even drunk.

The tears that flow so effortlessly are silent now, streaking my face and making my neck itch.

I feel completely numb.

I can't help but think how lucky I was last time, to be unconscious for half of it. I wasn't awake to feel him rip into me. And I wasn't awake to lie there, feeling like such a complete failure to myself, such a weak, sorry excuse for a woman, as he finally collapsed against me in satisfaction.

My wild, strained eyes slowly drift from the ceiling and down upon the sleeping mass beside me. He's been lying in that same position since he slowly pulled out of my limp body, pressed a light kiss to my trembling lips, and rolled off of me.

I stare at his peaceful face. There are no creases, no taut lines or anything that would indicate guilt. How could he do this to me? How could he do this to me _twice?_

Quinn's voice is in my head again, the conversation we had the first time she came over. _"And it's not like he's going to do it again,"_ I had said. _"You don't know that!"_ she protested.

 _He wasn't even drunk._

In an instant I've made up my mind. I have to get out of here.

My heart pounding, I carefully slide out from the thin cotton blanket. The balls of my feet hit the ground noiselessly, and I walk on them across the room to get the car keys. They jingle a little, and the door creaks when I open it, but Will remains asleep.

I'm still crying.

It's drizzling and everything smells like worms. I unlock the car and the lights come on, reflecting on the glass panes of the window. "Shit!"

Quickly, I thrust the key into the ignition which makes even more noise. Knowing that Will is probably awake by now, I lock the doors and wildly swing onto the dirt trail.

"Rachel!"

The sound of his voice instantly makes me cry out nervously. I floor the pedal, going as fast as I can manage. In the rearview mirror, I see him- clad only in boxers as he sprints toward the car in the rain.

"No!" I sob, trying to speed through a curve. I can barely see! It's dark out, raining, the trees all seem to run together, and I'm incredibly dizzy.

There's a fork in the road, much to my displeasure. Will is still behind me so I don't have time to try and remember which one to take, so I frantically swing to the right. God, I hope this is the one!

"Rachel!" I hear him yell again. My sobbing worsens as I come upon more paths.

"Where the hell do I go?" I cry out in frustration. I steer into one and scream, hitting a pothole. The car bounces down twists and turns and the faster I go, the more it seems the trees are getting closer together and falling on me. I hear Will's voice, and I can't tell which direction it's coming from, making me more scared.

Suddenly there is no noise, and the surface beneath the car smooths out. A paved road! Oh my god, I made it! I made it!

I'm still sobbing but somehow I laugh in relief. I'm out of the woods and I can see into the distance, I can see wide open space and lights and structures! The mountains, rising above everything like smoky blue clouds, surround the pink-tinted sky. The sun is rising. I pass a sign that says 'Oakdale, 1 Mile'.

"Oh!" I choke out. "Thank God!"

As I take the road into Oakdale, I take a look at the speedometer for the first time and it says '90', which is about 50 over the limit. But I'm too happy to care about breaking the law. I got away! I can't believe it, I got away!

I come over a hill and there it is, there's the tiny town. 'Oakdale Corner Store' is the first building to come up, so I slam on the breaks, not bothering to correctly park in the lot. A bewildered-looking woman is standing at the door, key in hand. I practically fall out of the car in effort to get there.

"Can I," I gasp out, "can I please use your phone?"

The woman, her eyes round, says nothing and nods as she unlocks the door. I follow her inside, still a little paranoid that Will is behind me.

"It's on the wall by the counter, hon," the woman tells me. I nod gratefully and sling the phone off its hook, dialing fast.

After a few rings, it goes through.

"911, what's your emergency?"

I take a shaky breath, tears spilling over my eyes. My voice is raspy and broken like the rest of me.

"My name is Rachel Berry. I'm the Amber Alert, I'm in Oakdale, Tennessee. Will Schuester...he's a predator."

-/-


	32. Epilogue

-/-

Epilogue

"You're good to go, Ms. Berry. Go take a seat in number seven, he'll be out shortly."

I give the guard a small nod and start to walk to the plexiglass booth.

"Ms. Berry?"

I stop, turning back to face the broad African-American man. He dismisses my concern with a kind smile. "You're real brave for doing this, young lady."

I return the smile and then take a seat in the plastic chair, setting the carseat gently beside it.

On the other side of the glass is a matching chair, empty, that will soon be seating a man I haven't seen in months. Will Schuester.

I hadn't quite grasped how much attention our story had racked up until I finally got home to Lima. The two weeks we were gone was one thing, but when the whole story was brought to light? The trial and sentencing? It got the entire country talking. I've always wanted to become a household name- not like this. People have been calling me everything from a modern-day heroine to a downright whore.

For whatever reason, when I was brought into captivity I assumed that the police would all be against me, angry at me for causing such a mess. I quickly found that to be the opposite. A kind lady with red hair was the only officer who was with me when I was being questioned. She was patient and concerned, and so I sat there and told her the story. The rape, the baby, everything. And then later, I told it again, still suffering my choppy bleached hair and in front of an entire court- as well as the entire country. The trial was broadcasted on live TV.

Will was sentenced to 40 years without parole. Of course, glee club was cancelled for the rest of the year and they're finding someone to take over, due to the media attention. If not for that, they probably would've done away with the club for good. Quinn had her baby on the day we would've gone to Sectionals, a beautiful little blonde who was adopted by a couple in Iowa. Quinn was glad that the girl, christened Emily Katherine, was far away enough for her not to be around, but sometimes I catch her staring off into space and I can just tell that the pain is lingering.

Then after everything had mostly died down, on a clear summer morning that was humid and still, it was my turn to become a mother.

My breath intakes when I catch sight of him. He stares at me, slowly taking a seat, in a ragged beard and orange jumpsuit. His hand tentatively hovers over the telephone, until he grabs it and speaks. "Rachel?"

An unexpected tear slips down the bridge of my nose. "Hi, Will," I say into mine.

He shakes his head slowly, confused. "Why are...what are you doing here?"

I sniffle, pressing my lips into a smile. "I. I don't know," I admit.

He looks somber. "How's the baby?"

"Perfect," I sigh. "Will, she's so perfect. She's healthy and beautiful, just...everything I could've hoped for and more."

"They won't tell me anything in here," he says. "No pictures...they won't even tell me my daughter's name."

I purse my lips, letting my eyes drift downward to the sleeping bundle beside me.

"Elizabeth Quinn," I tell him softly.

It was a funny thing that happened when I was back in the Oakdale corner store. I had just hung up the phone, the police were on their way, and the woman was consoling me as I sat on the floor crying. I was sitting there, for the first time regretting what I had done to Will and hating myself for it, when this old country song came over the radio. And on any other occasion I despise country music, but this song, 'Elizabeth' by the Statler Brothers, just...for whatever reason this immense curtain of calmness fell over me. By the time the song ended I knew then and there that Elizabeth would be her name; I always wanted to use a song name. I take it as a sign from God.

And of course, when I told Quinn about her middle name, she cried.

Will's mouth curves into a subtle smile. "That's...a beautiful name," he says. "I understand Quinn, but why'd you choose Elizabeth?"

I shrug. "Guess I just liked the name. I call her Lizzie for short."

"When's her birthday?" he asks.

"Her due date," I say. "July 3rd. I was in labor for fifteen hours."

"Wow," he muses. "That must've been agony."

I smile. "It was the best day of my life."

I think my entire existence has been divided into two sections; before July 3rd and after. I woke up that morning a child, even despite everything I'd been through, and I went to sleep a woman. A mother. I can't explain it, but something drastically changes when you have a baby. I never realized that you could love something so unconditionally until Elizabeth was laid in my arms. I can understand now how painful it must be for Quinn, because she became a woman too, she also experienced that unconditional love, only she doesn't get to keep her baby. Everyone's telling me how I'm so strong, but I think she's really the strong one.

"I'm glad, Rach," he says. "I just...I hate not being able to see my own kid, you know? I know it's my fault, I fucked it all up for myself, but...still. It's hard."

"Well...I figured that. And it's kind of why I came," I admit.

I abandon the phone on the counter and lean over, undoing Lizzie's carseat straps. When I gently lift her, she wakes with a start and her nose wrinkles like she's about to cry, but then yawns instead. I prop her up in the crook of my arm. I see Will mouth 'oh my god', not speaking into the phone.

I had a similar reaction.

My parents, who I have since reconciled with, and Quinn were with me during delivery. Most babies squeeze their eyes shut, but hers were wide open. She was just looking around at everybody as if to say, 'Hey! I'm here!'. The nurses called her an old soul and I couldn't agree more.

She really is a beautiful baby.

After having such a strange fixation on his eyes, I was so afraid that she was going to inherit them. That she would look up at me with those clear, glassy jades and I would only see him there; what if I couldn't even bring myself to touch her? But I guess I'll never know because they're brown like mine. A gorgeous deep amber, with little flecks of gold.

She has a wild tuft of brown hair, the same color as mine, on the very top of her head. As it grows, the ends become more frayed and I think it'll be naturally curly. Like his, I suppose, but it doesn't really bother me because I always wanted naturally curly hair myself. Really, the only thing that definitely comes from him is her decided little mouth. When she smiles, I think she looks exactly like him. But maybe that's a good thing, because it reminds me of the good times and not the bad.

What a beautiful thing to come out of something so awful.

Right now she's sitting here, eyes wide open and completely content, staring at her daddy. I wonder if she knows it somehow. Wouldn't surprise me if she did.

"Jesus, Rachel," he whispers. I always knew Will to be over-emotional, but now is completely justified. He's openly crying.

"She's so happy, Will," I say. "There are so many people that love her."

"She looks like you," he hastens. "She's beautiful."

I suck in my breath. "Will...there's something I need to know," I relent, another tear dripping down my face. "When you. When you told me you loved me. Did you mean it?"

He sighs. "Yes, I meant it."

"Then why would you-"

"I'm fucked up, Rach," he answers simply. "I...I don't know why I treated you so badly. I'm sorry I did. I'm sorry for everything."

I nod. "Will, I'm not going to lie and say I don't have feelings for you anymore...because I do. I think I always will, of some sort. But this is where you need to be. You're...not normal. You can't do this to another girl."

Will looks down, not protesting. "When does school start up again?" he changes the subject.

"Next week."

He shakes his head. "For you, do you think-"

"No," I cut off. "You know, I've gotten a lot of hate over this but none of it has come from Lima. Everybody's been so supportive. Santana even called me after I got home and she was crying, apologizing for how she's treated me."

He smiles. "That's good, Rach."

Suddenly, Lizzie breaks out in a hiccuping wail. I put her against my shoulder, bouncing and patting her back. "Oh, honey," I soothe. "You're okay."

I notice Will is closely watching me. "She's fine, she just gets fussy sometimes. I guess she takes after me, what with being a diva," I joke.

He's grinning a little. "Being a mom looks good on you, Rach. I can tell you're a good one."

I say nothing, continuing my method until she calms down to a soft mewl. I press a kiss to her chubby cheek. "I guess we'd better go."

Now sated, I put Lizzie back in her carseat and do the straps. I'm about to pick up and leave when Will taps on the glass. I pick up the phone again.

"Um...Rach, I didn't ask you this, and I suppose it'd be inconsiderate if I didn't," he says.

"What?"

He looks at me, for the very first time, with nothing except concern. "How are you?"

The question throws me off guard. There's been dozens of, 'How could you date your rapist?'s and 'How can you keep your rapist's baby?'s. But there hasn't been one 'How _are you?_ '.

I sling the carseat in the crook of my elbow, my sight fixated on one of Lizzie's bootied feet as I hold the phone to my ear. Then I look at him and smile.

"I'm good."

o0o

 _Oh, Elizabeth_

 _I long to see your pretty face_

 _I long to touch your lips_

 _I long to feel your warm embrace_

 _Don't know if I could ever live my life without you_

 _Oh, Elizabeth_

 _I'm sure missing you_

o0o

The End

-/-


End file.
